Spiders Web
by Wesley Antion
Summary: An evil plan formulated by two powers, and executed by three, leave Redwall and Salamandastron confused, and wondering who their real allies are. R&R Please.
1. Prologue

_Ohhhh!_

_The lively sails of the Skippurdedee_

_Are flappin' away in the wind_

_And if ye don't listen right now_

_I'll boot ya right in the end!_

_Well Garfast was a mighty fox_

_Though he was missin' half a tail_

_He sailed all around the sea_

_Hunting for that whale_

_He searched the sea far and wide_

_Searching for the beast_

_That bit off his tail so long ago_

_And had it for a feast._

_He sailed away in the Skippurdedee_

_And finally got the fish_

_But when he finally caught it_

_The whale told him this._

_I'm very sorry for what I did, _

_And will never do it again_

_If you let me go right now_

_I'll protect you from all the men_

_Puzzled, Garfast put down his sword_

_And asked What is a man?_

_The whale said "I made it up"_

_And bit off Garfast's tail again!_

_Ohhhh!_

_The lively sails of the Skippurdedee_

_Are flappin' away in the wind_

_And if ye don't listen right now_

_I'll boot ya right in the end!_


	2. Chapter 1

Sister Marta hurried against the blistering cold, fighting her way from the gatehouse back to the main hall. Though the extra blankets she had just picked up were thick with goose down the lashing wind still found its way in through tiny crevices, chilling Marta to the bone. Her small paws carried her quickly, nimbly dodging the rapidly forming snowdrifts in the courtyard, and she soon came to the large oaken door of Great Hall. She raised her fist and began to bang on the door, hoping that someone would let her into the abbey. No one came. She began to bang harder, almost frantically. A scurry came from behind the door, and the large oaken latch was lifted and the door swung inwards. Sister Marta stepped in quickly, shutting the door behind her. "Sorry there Miss Marta, I was just about to fall asleep before you came banging on the door, good thing too, or else you would have been a wee mousicle by the morning. Harharhar!"

"Foremole, that is not very kind," Marta quipped, "and I don't think any of the Dibbuns would be impressed to find that they no longer had a supervisor...But then again, they ARE Dibbuns." They both laughed, the gravity of the situation dissipated, and the pair walked through a second set of doors and into the main hall.

The warm glow of candlelight greeted the two friends as they entered the dining area. It was dinner time and all of the abbey's residents were ready to eat. Mushroom and leek pasties were set out, along with the mole's favorite, deeper-n-ever tarter pudding, and the otters had even contributed a fair sized trout from the abbey pond. There were many different kinds of soups and stews, including a shrimp and hotroot stew made especially by the otter, Sister Gwenneth. "Ah, good to see you made it back in one piece," Gwen remarked, "I was afraid for a sec there, thought you may have been blown away by the wind eh?"

The two Sisters hugged each other through the pile of blankets Marta was still carrying. "M'dear, let me help you with those," Gwen exclaimed as she realized that Marta was still carrying the blankets, "No kind hearted animal this side of Mossflower should ever have to do all that work alone!"

"Why thank you Gwen, these blankets were starting to get heavy, even though they are keeping be extra toasty!" They both laughed, Marta handed a couple of blankets to Gwen and they hurried up to the infirmary and dormitories to deal out the blankets.

Foremole Grumman watched the Sisters, walk through the doors and out of the dining hall, and then her turned back to his dinner and crew. "Well lads," he spoke in a gruff tone, with a tinge of darkness to it, "It seems that we're going to have a real winter this year. Which means we aren't going to be able to dig much at all if the ground freezes, so tonight we need to finish all the necessary tunnels to the pond, and the other food caches. Understood?"

There was slight grumbling from the crowd of seasoned diggers, they understood the gravity of the situation, and knew that if the tunnels weren't finished, the abbey would starve within its own safety, the walls would no longer keep others out, but trap them in. The young would be the first to go, then the elderly, then slowly the survivors of the initial starve would slowly freeze, as the cold became more intense, with even less food and wood, they would eventually end up frozen in a state of starvation. Yes, the moles did need to finish the digging tonight.

"Awww, why tonight?" whined Mulch, the new crew member. The mole was a loaner; he hated crowds, but was not afraid to speak up. He was used to living alone, and had only come to the abbey for the good food. "Honestly Grumman, I lived alone offa the land for two years, and look at me, I'm just fine!"

Flustered, Foremole Grumman quickly regained composure, "That may be just fine for you Mulch, but there are others in this abbey who need our help just to keep fed, let alone survive. These tunnels are crucial to their and our survival, so you will either help with the tunnels, or you will stay inside. That is final."

"Fine, I'll help you all save these weaklings. But next time, I'm staying home for winter." Mulch added, to save some dignity.

"Thank you."

Up in the infirmary, Marta and Gwen were busy distributing the extra blankets to the patients. "What a shame," Marta noted, "all these gentlebeasts bedridden because of this stupid disease. Why do they have to be stuck up here? It isn't fair for them; they are missing all the fun."

"Yes Sister, but if these patients weren't up here, all of Redwall Abbey would be sick. The healthy ones would be in the infirmary trying to avoid the sick ones. Disease is a horrible thing. Especially when we have no idea what the sickness is." She slowly mopped the brow of a small mouse, his tiny paws quivering as if he was extremely cold. Gwen felt his forehead. It was very warm. "Oh Marta, I'm afraid this little one isn't going to make it. He hasn't woken up for the last three days, his temperature keeps rising, and he won't stop shivering. I've never had to deal with a death of such a young one before."

"Well then Gwen, we're just going to have to not think about that won't we. Maybe Martin will help him. He has never let me down before."

Marta smiled as she thought of the regal warrior mouse, his strong features, his dashing robe, and his sword. The sword of Martin. The pommel hilted blade had fallen from the stars and had been forged by a badger lord in the fiery depths of Salamandastron; the blade had vanquished countless foes, protecting Redwall Abbey for season upon end. The blade of the warrior, whose soul now protectively haunted the abbey. Marta's eyes glazed over and she continued to dream, she saw Martin the Warrior, raising his sword, preparing for battle, charging, burning down the enemy's fortress, proclaiming _Victory!_ at the top of his lungs.

Then, Martin turned and looked at her. His black eyes turned to deep pits of obsidian. Then, within his eyes, Marta saw a fire ignite, a faint, but strong, glimmering in the pools of deep night. Martin slowly reached out to Marta, beckoning her to hold out her hand. Subconsciously, Marta listened to Martin, she raised her paw, palm up. Before Marta, could do any more, Martin took his sword and drew it across Marta's paw. A thin line of blood formed, and Marta winced in pain, but continued to look Martin in the eyes. The fire in Martin's eyes grew, and soon his eyes were near a raging inferno, hate, love, sorrow, anger, passion, and hundreds of other emotions burning brightly. Marta saw a tear form on his cheek and roll down his soft fur. Then with sorrow-bound duty, Martin took his sword once more, lifted the sacred blade, and plunged it deep into Marta. Marta didn't even scream, a sense of calm washed over her, and she realized that it was all for the best. Black started to creep into the edge of her vision, and soon, a cloud of darkness enveloped her, and she fell away into a bottomless pit of blackness. And she heard,

_Here comes a time of great sorrow_

_Look to the west_

_An evil arises to smother all life_

_Look to the east_

_A young hero, strong at heart_

_Look to the north_

_A cloud of darkness comes forth_

_Look to the south_

_Salamandastron's fire is gone_

_Here comes a time of great sorrow_

_Four directions_

_Three dilemmas_

_Two enemies_

_One hero_

_No hope_

_Sleep deeply Sister._


	3. Chapter 2

"Marta...Maaaarrrtaaa? Marta wake up...Martaaaaa." Sister Gwen gently shook Marta's thin shoulders. "Wake up m'dear wake up."

Inside Marta's head a black cloud surrounded her; she couldn't find where the voice was coming from. _Marta...Maaarrtaaa? Marta wake up..._Frustrated she called out, "I'm here! Is that you Martin? Hello?"

Gwen stood up abruptly at Marta's sudden exclamation. "Oh Marta, can you hear me? Wake up, open your eyes."

Marta responded to Gwen's command and her eyes opened. Even in the dim lighting of the infirmary, Marta's eyes burned. Tears formed, and she squinted at Gwen. "What happened Gwen? I had a horrible dream that Martin killed me..."

"Shh, now don't be speaking of horrible things like that. A few moments ago when you came up to tend to Tobias and the rest of the sick'uns, you went into a trance, like someone far away was talking to you. You walked to the medicine and sewing supplies cabinet, and grabbed the pincushion and poked your hand in many different places..."

"When Martin cut my hand..." Marta put the pieces together.

"Then you dropped it, and tripped over the pile of blankets you had set on the floor earlier, and you fell and landed with you belly on this bed corner, it must'ave hurt a lot. But thankfully your awake now, I was afeared you was headed to the black forest when you didn't wake up there."

"Thank you Gwen, I wasn't in much trouble, but I did have a very disturbing dream-"

Gwen cut her off, "Not now Marta, you need to rest. Here, take a deep breath of some fresh air." Gwen opened up the window and Marta looked out into the blizzard and took a deep breath.

The wind howled outside Redwall, over the walls, and into the courtyard, making a spinning vortex of ice and snow. Marta did not envy the moles as she watched them trudge out to the southeast gate. She closed the window before the infirmary could cool any further. She only hoped that the moles would be able to endure the bitter cold and remain healthy.

Outside the abbey, the mole crew trudged through the snow, heads down in silent protest against the roaring fiend. Some of the smaller, newer moles were being buffeted by the wind, and they had difficulty remaining on their feet. The veterans quickly saw this and sheltered the younger moles, protecting them from thee wind.

The crew arrived at the southeast wicker gate cold and tired, but they knew that there was desperate work to be done. Standing in the corner, where the south and east walls met, Grumman addressed his crew. "Alright moles, tonight we will finish the tunnels. Understood? It is quite simple. Franz and I will dig to the main vegetable cache. Jericho and Trey will dig to the potato cache and Mulch, seeing as Wallace is sick you will need to dig to the fruit cache alone. Do you think you can handle that?"

The young mole sneered, as if insulted, "Of course I can. Now can we do this job already? I'm freezing!"

"Yes, wise words," Grumman remarked and to himself he continued, "coming from the mouth of a fool." Then for everyone to hear, "Crew, move out!"

The moles each went separate ways with their digging partner. Mulch headed off alone towards the western wall, from where he would dig underneath the abbey wall and out towards where the sun would set.

Grumbling to himself as he reached the wall, Mulch stooped down into the snow and began to clear away snow to reveal a hole. Mulch had already been working on this hole for three days, and was nearly finished. He crawled in, letting his blunt digging claws sink into the still moist soil. His eyes were nearly useless in the dark, but he smelled his way through, recognizing the scent of the different layers of dirt he had dug through. He descended deeper into the earth, until the tunnel leveled off. He walked a little bit, and then was forced onto his knees as the roof of the tunnel became drastically lower. The tunnel began to slope upwards, indicating that the end of the tunnel was near. Mulch began to sniff intensely now, attempting to judge the distance between him and the wall of untouched dirt. He crawled four body lengths, and then began to dig into the new soil.

His claws worked furiously, scraping dirt away from in front of him and pushing it behind him. The temperature of the soil began to drop, slightly at first, but sank quicker and quicker as he neared the surface. Suddenly, Mulch burst through the layer of topsoil and landed half in, half out of his hole. He judged his surroundings; the large hollow oak stump was within paw lengths of the hole, so close Mulch could even make out the details of the well concealed bark lock. He envisioned the piles of candied berries, apple preserves, dried pears, plums, and cherries, all waiting for him behind the door. _Maybe just one or two apple slices wouldn't be too bad_, he thought to himself, _after I finish the tunnel of course_.

Mulch dove back into the tunnel, his claws propelling him back down to where he came from. He soon came upon the soft, loamy dirt he had unearthed (pun intended) earlier. He dig his way past the stuff, then turned around and began to push the soil up towards the dim, cold blue light at the end of the tunnel. It took him two more trips to ensure that the tunnel was free of unnecessary loose dirt.

Mulch stepped out of his hole to admire his handiwork. He had piled the dirt in a way to form a natural wind block, keeping the hole sheltered from wind and snow. It definitely was a fine show of his workmanship.

_Now to reward the worker_, Mulch thought to himself as he trundled towards the oak stump.

The stump was strong, its roots deep and broad, extending beyond the depths into the earth in search of water. In its prime the branches would have extended far into the sky, as if the oak was trying to grasp the clouds. The deep brown wood would shiver and move, but never crack under the forces thrown against it. But somehow the tree had faltered. A passing whim had caught its attention for too long before it realized that it was sick. The core of the tree died, leaving the magnificent shell behind. The oak had not worried, because, who sees the inside of a tree anyways?

For many years it stood, a magnificent shell, appearing to be strong and healthy, but really sick and weak. The façade the tree put up was amazing, and before long it even believed itself, thinking that it was perfectly fine. But doom would fall upon the tree sooner than it could comprehend. After years of acting, the tree had forgotten how to survive for real. The sickness within it grew stronger every day, and the tree grew consistently weaker. Until one day it gave underneath the strain of a violent gust of wind. Its smaller branches were ripped off. The larger branches hung on, but were eventually shorn off by the cutting wind. The merciless wind did not let up, until with a groan of resign, the mighty oak fell. The trunk burst into hundreds of pieces upon contact with the ground, rotten wood, termites, beetles, and all sorts of crawlies were tossed into the air as the dying spirit of the forest giant gave its last breath. Only the stump remained.

Mulch approached the grand stump, stepping over roots and bits of rotten wood until he stood snout to bark with the stump. His claws worked quickly and carefully, manipulating the bark lock until it snapped open. He quickly stepped inside.

Inside the stump was a large cache of fruit. With the light coming from a small hole in the false ceiling of the originally hollow stump Mulch walked over from the door to the dried apples. He stuffed his face with four slices, enjoying the sweet and sour flavor. He sniffed the air; the overpowering smell of sugary preserves and fruity bundles was laced with the faint, but undeniable odor of death. The rotting stump no longer hid its true identity as it slowly crumbled away into a stinking mass of rotten wood.

The revelation of the scent startled Mulch, and he found himself wanting out of the food cache. He hastily head over to the door and opened it. Stepping outside he turned to face the door. Fumbling with the lock in the freezing blizzard air, he snapped the lock shut. _Snap._ Mulch began to turn to go down his tunnel and back to the abbey. _Snap._ He froze in place. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up, his body rigid. Slowly he turned his head, hoping to see nothing but forest. _Hmmmmaaaahhh._ A warm gush of air hit the back of his neck like a death sentence. Without looking to see his hunter, Mulch dug his claws into the wood of the stump and began to climb as quickly as he could. A sadistic laugh emanated from below him as he felt a strong paw grasp his stubby tail and toss him onto the ground. "Why 'ello little mole. How is you doin today?" a dark voice asked in a sarcastic tone.

"P..p..pple..please...do..don" Mulch stuttered

"Shut up you coward." Growled the voice, "or I'll give you something to be really afraid of. Now stand up and follow me."

Not knowing what to do, Mulch remained silent and didn't move. "Aww, yew stupid beast," the voice groaned, "Garan, Yart, grab the beast 'afore he finds his tongue." Two sleek, silk furred beasts came from the shadows of the surrounding trees and grabbed Mulch. They gruffly carried him by his fore and hind paws, following the leader through the dark forest.

The trio marched for a while, and then entered a clearing with a fire in the middle. The leader motioned for the two to drop Mulch near the fire. He landed hard, not being able to compensate for his fall. Mulch lay on the ground for a few moments, groaning in pain and self pity. "Why did I ever leave the forest? Oh, there is only trouble with those abbey beasts."

The large feline forms circled the fire, gathering its heat. Mulch counted about two score including his three captors. There were tents set up in a semi circle on the far side of the fire, but none of the beasts remained inside them. They were all eager to find out what the three had dragged in. One spoke up, "So Jaggar, what did you find?"

"Oh, nothing of significance, just a mole."

"Really, where'd you find him?"

"Over by the huge stump a couple of minutes away." Jaggar turned and looked at Mulch with a gleam in his eye as if he had stumbled across a trove of treasure. "So moley, what exactly were you doing out this late. In a stump. You know moles live in the ground. Not stumps."

Mulch remained silent. He knew what would happen if these cruel beasts found out about the cache. Even though he felt no loyalty to Redwall, he felt loyalty to the goodbeasts inside Redwall, knowing that no matter how much he despised them, they were far more honorable than whoever had captured and brought him here.

Jaggar looked intensely at Mulch, as if he were trying to bore a hole with his eyes in Mulch's forehead. Mulch locked his jaw, his defiance now growing stronger within him. "Mole, I'm gonna give you one chance to tell me what's inside the stump, or I'll kill you." Jaggar slowly drew his curved cutlass, dramatically slicing the air in a figure eight motion.

Mulch's defiance quickly melted into panic. What would he do? If he told he and everyone in the abbey would die. But if he didn't..._Hold up!_ Mulch came across an ingenious idea. "Mr. Jaggar, sir," Mulch mumbled, "I finks that I can tell you what is in my stump. You see," his courage began to build once again, "as a mole, I live underground, and I find lotsa rocks. Some rocks are pretty and shiny," the feline's eye's light up. Realizing his blunder Mulch hastily added, "-but have no value, they just look pretty. So I takes these rocks and keeps them in the stump for safekeeping."

Jaggar looked at him. Stared long and deep into Mulch's eyes, and then spoke aloud, "You lying scum! I shoulda killed you the moment I caught you!"

"No please! It is all true, there is just rocks! Nothing! I swear, no candied apples at all!" Mulch stopped. "Aww no." He whimpered, and began to cry.

Jaggar grinned manically, "Well troops, it seems that our little mole has provided us with food for the evening. Thank you kindly, dirt rat!"

Mulch just sat in the dirt by the fire and sobbed, wondering how such a simple job could have gone so awry. He watched the feline giants march off to the stump. He gave up the thought of running, he was too slow and he had already lost the cache to the beasts. Surely the abbey wouldn't even take him in after all he had put them through, even without the loss of the fruit cache. Seeing no way out other than death, the mole resigned himself to whatever form of punishment that the cruel cats would deal out to him. Mulch curled up into a ball and slept a restless sleep by the fire.

When Mulch woke up the fire was only smoldering embers within the ring of rocks. He sat up and yawned, blinking to clear the sleep from his eyes. The blizzard was over, and the trees surrounding the clearing were bent, broken, and covered with a fine layer of snow. He was surprised he hadn't felt the cold during the night, seeing as the fire was his only source of heat. Not bothering to ponder the dilemma anymore, Mulch stood up and surveyed the camp. He heard snores from the tents, and even saw some foot paws sticking out the end of the smaller tents. He smiled at the irony, but the moment of happiness was quickly forgotten as he noticed the largest tent begin to stir. A few moments later Jaggar emerged, looking sleepy, but dangerous. "So moley, survived the winter? Hmmm, you're a tough little beast aren't you?" Jaggar's eyes lit up with a demonic fire. "Well, it seems that we are going to have to find a way to break you aren't we?" The sadistic beast laughed a deep throaty laugh, which climaxed at a near snarl, then receded to a mean chuckle. Mulch stared in horror, but didn't say a word.

Jaggar began to rouse the camp, kicking tent flaps and calling out names. Soon the entire camp was up and standing around the rebuilt fire. Mulch was the centre of attention, and for once, he hated it. He slowly panned across their faces, noticing scars, missing ears, and the omnipresent stench of unwashed fur. Before he could even stand to stretch his legs Jaggar began to speak. "Troops, last night we feasted on fruit and rabbit food thanks to this tiny mole. Now how shall we repay him for this kind act?"

The crowd began to grin evilly and formed a circle around Mulch. Mulch was scared, and there was no hiding it. "What do you mean repay?" He asked aloud, frightened beyond his own wits.

"Oh, nothing really. Just a little something we like to call 'releasing the spirit.'"

As frightened as he was Mulch immediately caught on that they did not plan to release his physical self, but something a little bit more morbid. They meant to kill him.

In a movement even surprising to him Mulch stood up and stared Jaggar in the eye. He realized how much he despised these creatures and was no longer afraid. Lashing out in hate he asked, "Who are you? You foul smelling, gut wrenching buffoons! Who?"

Jaggar laughed once again, he threw his head back and his maniacal guffaws filled the early morning air. He turned and looked at Mulch, who had gone silent, his burst of courage long gone. "Mole, we are polecats."

Jaggar slowly turned, and walked away. Then he stopped, looked over his shoulder and casually remarked, "I'm done with him, release him."

Mulch began to cry.

Yeah! Oh buddy. That was an accomplishment. Sure, call me soft, but this is only the second chapter of my first real story. And to be honest I am pretty proud of it. Obviously my writing will get better as I go, considering I haven't written in about six months. Yeah, so read and review.


	4. Chapter 3

The dinner bell rang loud and clear throughout the extensive rock-hewn hallways of Salamandastron. Many hares jumped at the noise, realized its significance once again, dropped anything at hand, and ran to dinner. The beating of footpaws battered its way through the rock to the dining hall where the head cook, Frieda, was veraciously ringing the bronze bell. Dinner was laid out on the tables, not very sophisticated fare, but in enormous quantities. Gigantic bowls, heaped full of salad teetered on the table, threatening to fall and dump their contents upon the stone floor. Frieda knew the bowls wouldn't tip though; they never had the time to anyways.

The first of the hares burst through the doors, young recruits eager for a meal like they had been missing at home. Their eyes bulged at the mounds of salad, vegetables, and fruits. Frieda laughed to herself as she watched them begin to gobble up the food as if it was their last meal.

Next came the veterans, anywhere from two seasons up to twenty seasons of service under their belts. They walked slower than the recruits, but were still eager to eat. They sat down at different tables than the recruits, almost appalled by the gusto at which the recruits were eating.

Finally, the permanent residents hobbled in. These veterans of old no longer fought with the Long Patrol, or even guarded Salamandastron. No, these hares were now enjoying the fruits of their long seasons of labor, sitting in Salamandastron reminiscing of days of old. The recruits motioned for the seniors to come sit at their tables, so they could hear them tell extravagant tales of bravery and despair.

The dinner bell rang clear one last time, and the hares in the dining room fell silent. It wasn't everyday that the badger lord joined them for dinner. The back doors of the hall opened and through them walked Alanbrow. The great badger lord sauntered along the aisle leading between the two rows of tables, making his way up to the front to the designated table for him and his high ranking officers. As he reached the table he turned and addressed his legions. "Good evening goodbeasts, I hope you are all enjoying your dinner."

A small cheer of gratitude was released by the recruits, but was quickly smothered.

"Now please, resume your eating, I would hate to have starving hares at my command. Now wouldn't that be useless?!" A hearty chuckle came deep from inside the badger lord, and the hares laughed with him, and then went back to stuffing their faces.

On the far side of the room, the recruits and seniors began to slow their eating, and began to chat casually. Many of the recruits wanted to hear stories of the Long Patrol back in the glory days. The seniors just laughed at their youthful energy and over time humored the excited hares with a story or two. The recruits gazed on with eyes wide open, gawking at some of the fabulous escapades these relics had gone on. "Wow," Baen, a young energetic male hare exclaimed, "It must have been the greatest adventure ever! Just you gallant hares fighting alongside an enormous badger lord, slaying all the vermin in your path! Were you ever scared Rennek?"

"Hmmm, it definitely was an adventure, but lad battles and slaying aren't things to be excited about. Fighting kills. I lost many a dear friend to those vermin." Rennek paused, his eyes misting, "Yes," he continued, "I was very scared at times." The old hare pursed his thin lips together, in an effort not to cry. "It was hard, seeing your best pal being cut down by a foebeast. I only wish that we never have to fight again." Rennek put his face between his paws and breathed deeply.

Across the aisle, Matte heard Rennek's story and wish. He slowly turned so he was facing away from his own table and placed a paw on the old hares shoulder. Rennek turned around. "Well Rennek your wish has come true. Seeing as we have defeated the polecats, they are now our mercenaries. We never will have to fight again!"

Rennek's eyes darkened. The hair on the back of his neck stood upright, "What!" he glowered, "What good is the Long Patrol then? How do we know that they will do as we order? I say kill them. There is only evil coming from those beasts."

Matte stiffened. Trying his best to keep his temper in check he replied, "Well Rennek, what do you want then? First you say you never want to kill or have someone close to you killed again, and then you say that we should kill our mercenary fighters. How do you expect to get both what you want without the help of others?"

Rennek continued to glower, "They aren't helping us! Right know our own badger lord has sent them to attack Redwall! Do you not see something wrong here?!"

"I heard they were going to check on Redwall and assist them with final preparations!" Matte replied, nearly yelling.

More of the veterans turned around, agreeing with Matte. While the seniors turned with the recruits following, supporting Rennek. The two hares at the centre of the argument glared at each other in an attempt to stare the other down. Rising from his chair at the front of the room Alanbrow broke the angry silence. "Alright gennelbeasts, this is no way to acting at dinner. I say you two settle it a civilized way. Apple pudding is coming out for dessert. You each get five bowls, whoever finishes first wins. The loser then has to stop arguing and accept the others point of view. Understood?"

Both hares nodded. Neither one of them thought this was a very good way to end the argument, but Alanbrow had spoken and they weren't about to challenge his ruling.

The trolley holding the pudding came out of the kitchen, being pushed by Frieda. She doled out five portions to each of the contestants, making sure each bowl was filled to just below the brim ensuring equality. Matte and Rennek set their bowls in front of themselves. They were now sitting of the far side of each table. They looked across their own table, the aisle, and the opposite table into the opponent's eyes. Frieda raised her ladle, "Alright boys, once mah ladle hits the floor you may begin you eatin'."

Slowly she looked at Rennek, he nodded, she looked at Matte, and he nodded as well. Then, without further ado, she tossed her ladle high in the air. The large metal spoon spun and flipped in the air, glinting as it caught light from the many torches lining the dining hall. Reaching its apex, the ladle began to plummet towards the stone floor. _Clang!_ The spoon hit.

Immediately Matte and Rennek began to scoff down the pudding. Not even using his spoon, Matte slopped the hot apple pudding into his mouth with his own paws. He finished his first bowl within seconds. Rennek's old paws were working furiously, each with a spoon digging into the apple pudding and shoveling it into his mouth like lightening. He finished his second bowl. He spared himself a quick glance at Matte, noticing that the younger hare was already on his fourth bowl. Matte looked up and locked eyes with Rennek a quick second. Even though Matte was concentrating hard of finishing his pudding, his eyes still had time to laugh at Rennek. _Wham!_ Matte slammed his final empty bowl of pudding on the table in front of him, shaking the entire table. "Ha! You old beast! Did you really think that you could beat me in a pudding eating race? Well, we sure know now don't we?" Matte laughed.

The veterans began to clear out of the dining hall, all in a group around Matte.

Rennek stared into his fourth bowl, it was only half empty. It wasn't even close. He glanced up at Matte, seeing the younger hare being congratulated by his peers as he walked out the door. "Don't worry mister Renn; I still think you're the better beast." Tayla, a female recruit consoled. "And I think that you are right too, we shouldn't be allied or even associated with those good for nothing polecats."

The old hare looked up with sad eyes. "Thank you Tayla that means more than you know."

"I'm with her." A voice called out.

"Me too." another voice volunteered

"As well as me"

A great chorus of voices joined in support of Tayla's choice.

"Well," Tayla said, shrugging her shoulders "Looks like we're all with you."

Rennek smiled.

Back in their dormitories, the recruits jabbered nonstop about their newfound "alliance" with the seniors and how the veterans had no idea what was really good for them. "I think Rennek is right," Tayla said once again, "Why do we use the polecats? If we defeated them, then why do we let them live?"

"'Cause Lord Alanbrow said so," a voice volunteered.

"Why did he say that?" Tayla countered "Maybe," a hush fell over the room, "Maybe there is something wrong with Alanbrow!" Tayla whispered.

A number of voices shouted out with distaste. No!

Tayla quickly quieted them with a hurried "Shhhh!" the group calmed down. "Now honestly goodbeasts, why would Alanbrow let the polecats live? They say he didn't even go into the Bloodwrath when they attacked us. Something is wrong with our badger lord."

Once again a hush fell over the room as the facts sunk in. "But remember," Tayla added, "No one speaks of this ever! We have already lost. If we get caught we could get kicked out of the Long Patrol, even out of Salamandastron!"

The recruits slept and uneasy sleep that night.

Over in the senior's quarters, Rennek and the other hares discussed what had happened at dinner, and what it meant. "This can't be good," Rennek began. "Alanbrow singled me and Matte out because he knew that Matte would win. That means he is in favor of the fighters."

"That must mean that he thinks we are useless old crones who only tell wild tales to the recruits." Somebeast offered.

"Yes, but no," Rennek paused, "It would seem that Alanbrow is trying to separate us into factions. But why? A group of hares that don't get along is worse than a group of starved hares."

"Maybe it ain't him."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, maybe someone is pretending to be Alanbrow."

"Impossible! How many other badgers do you know of? Especially ones like Alanbrow, with only half a white stripe?"

The crowd quieted, this definitely was a dilemma. Seeing no plausible solution at such a late hour, Rennek closed the discussion. "Well lads, it doesn't matter at this very moment anyway. Go to sleep now."

Just like the recruits, the seniors slept an uneasy sleep.


	5. Chapter 4

Yehaw! We find out about Mulch now!

Mmhmm, so I have now built up a two chapter buffer. I may take it to three or four, just to cover my lazy butt when I don't write for two months or something...

So that is it for intro, enjoy the fic

Read and Review

Man I get sick of reading that.

"Where is that blasted mole!" Grumman seethed under his breath as he paced back and forth across the cobblestone floor in the main entrance. His entire crew had already returned from digging the tunnels long before bedtime the previous night. Except Mulch. "Why did I even let him join? Now he is just causing more trouble than ever because I'm actually responsible for him now."

"Grumman?" a small voice called out from behind him. The Foremole turned to see Sister Gwen, walking slowly, with a puzzled look on her face. "Grumman, are you still out here?"

"Yes" he gruffly replied.

"Grumman," Gwen soothed, "You really should go to bed-"

"No."

"Well, at least have some breakfast then," she motioned with her snout towards the bowl of porridge and biscuit she was carrying.

Grudgingly Grumman took the food, making a show of forcing himself to eat, even though he way ravenously hungry. "Thank you." he grumbled.

"Why are you still out here?" Gwen asked slowly, not wanting to anger the sleep deprived mole.

"Arg, Mulch still hasn't come in from work yet. I've been up all night waiting for him. As much as I dislike the mole, I have to make sure he is alright."

"Well," Gwen paused, "Do you think that maybe he went on and just left after he finished the tunnel? You know he was being very rude, and mentioned numerous times during his stay that he wished he was still in the forest alone. So he may never return Grumman. It isn't your fault, Mulch is an independent mole. He could be leagues from here by know if he marched quickly."

Grumman considered the possibility. It would make his life a whole lot easier, and he would be able to leave the doorway and have breakfast and a nap. "You have a point Gwen. It does make a whole lot of sense that he would leave." he stopped, pondering again, "but why in the middle of a blizzard? That is the worst time to travel."

Gwen considered this. "Ah, Grumman. Sure it is a horrible time to travel, if you are trying to get somewhere. But Mulch is probably trying to escape us. Betcha he thought that if he traveled during the blizzard, the snow would cover up his tracks."

Grumman smiled. "Thank you Gwen. That sure takes a load off of my conscience. Now, what was for breakfast?"

The pair laughed as they headed off to breakfast.

As they reached Cavern Hole, the smell of porridge and fruit preserves filled their snouts and made their mouths water. Gwen began to laugh as she noticed Marta hurrying around scolding the Dibbuns for not eating all their porridge before having some of the sugary preserves. She hurried over to assist her friend in the melee of fur and porridge.

Grumman ignored the pair of Sisters battling with the horde of Dibbuns and headed over to the table where his crew was sitting. He noticed the pride in their eyes, knowing that they had finished their work on time. "Good work lads," Grumman congratulated them with a celebratory salute, "You all have gone above and beyond the call of duty, you are now free to spend the rest of the winter as you wish, because there is no more need for holes to be dug." A guilty look crossed Grumman's face. "Ok, I actually need one of you to go make sure Mulch finished his tunnel, considering he most likely ran off last night. Would someone please volunteer?"

The group looked at him incredulously, as if they were trying to understand a foreign language. "Ok, I'll do it myself then."

Grumman turned around and began to head towards the main doors, where he could access the hallway leading to the courtyard. But before he was able to leave the room, Bart the gatekeeper burst through the doors, his frail form shaking from the exertion. He was breathing heavily and trying to speak, but only gasps and wheezes were coming out. Finally he slowed his breathing and looked at the group of shocked beasts staring at him. "Whew, there is a large group of foebeasts outside the front gates. They say they want in now."

Abbot Steich hurried over from his table. "What? Of course not! Send them away. Besides, we can survive in here for almost two seasons because of our food stores, even if they don't leave."

Bart grimaced as if swallowing an extremely sour chunk of apple, "Abbot, they know about the food stores. And..." he paused, dreading the information he would have to give them, "they have Mulch."

Grumman felt a pang of guilt rush through him and he felt sick to his stomach. His normally steady knees quivered as if an enormous weight had been dropped on his shoulders. Sitting down heavily on a stool beside the nearest table he slowly began to talk, "Bart, did you see him? Was he alive?"

Bart replied quickly pointing out the silver lining, "Yessir, he was alive and wriggling when I last saw him."

Grumman sat up straighter, the load lifted as quickly as I had been dropped. "Well then, we must find a way to save him."

"Absolutely," seconded Abbot Steich.

Grumman rubbed his paws together, "Then we're going to need a plan.

Out with the polecats, Mulch felt terrible. After Jaggar had given him up to the rest of the polecats to tease, cut, savage, and eventually kill, the horrendous beast had turned and told them to stop. "We're actually going to need this fellow." he had told them. Now here he was, being used as bait.

"Why did I ever leave the forest?" Mulch groaned to himself as if repeating a sacred mantra, "Why did I ever leave the forest?"

"Oh, shaddup you stupid mole," his guard commanded. "I should've killed yew before Jaggar went all crazy-like and changed his mind." Looking off into the distance he murmured to himself, but loud enough to Mulch to hear, "I've always wunnered what mole tastes like."

Mulch never ceased to be further horrified by these evil creatures and their evil doings and schemes. "Hey, get up mole, its time to go."

Mulch's guard towed him along behind him, as they followed Jaggar and three other polecats towards the great oaken gates of Redwall. At the front of the line, Jaggar called out to the small figures which topped the wall. "Open up you tiny beasts, or the mole dies!" To exaggerate his point, he grabbed Mulch by his ankle and held him up high for all to see.

Mulch felt the blood rush to his head, as he dangled from one foot paw above the ground. Jaggar continued to speak. "Now, that I have your attention," he cleared his throat with a resounding "Ahem, I demand a meeting with you leader. If you do not meet this demand..." His voice trailed off, leaving the Redwaller's directed imagination to think of the horrors which would befall them and Mulch if Abbot Stiech didn't meet with the cruel looking cat.

Abbot Stiech did his best to hide his excitement; _this is exactly how the plan is supposed to go!_ He thought to himself. Calming himself, he spoke, "Fine, you foul beast, we shall meet your demands only because you threaten the life of one of our own. But now you must meet one of my demands, you will meet me alone in the courtyard of the abbey. You will bring only Mulch and one other of your kind. If you do not meet this demand, I will be forced to let Mulch die to protect the better interest of this abbey."

"Well then," Jaggar agreed, "I guess I have no choice other than to meet your demands." He turned and motioned to the polecat that was carrying Mulch. "Come Tripik, bring the mole with you."

The trio marched towards the abbey gates, leaving the rest of the polecats standing outside the abbey. As they neared the gates, the giant oak doors creaked open, squealing on gritty hinges like a beast resisting capture. Four moles stepped out from behind the doors, and headed into the courtyard. They surrounded Abbot Stiech, protecting him as best as they could, from whatever would come marching through the doorway.

Jaggar mused at this pathetic grasp at power; he could see the moles were visibly shaking. Even the stern looking Abbot who had dealt so roughly with him from a distance now was looking queasy, his eyes darting back and forth, looking for a route of escape. "Look Tripik, these soft woodsbeasts are scared even inside their great fortress." Jaggar said, motioning to the great sandstone walls towering above them.

The two foebeasts and Mulch walked through the gate, the enormous oaken doors seemed to lean over, threatening to fall upon anybeast they disliked. The gatehouse seemed to be in disrepair. The windows smudged and glazed over, a couple even broken. Mulch started to ease as he entered the courtyard. Even in the presence of Jaggar and Tripik, the looming red walls gave comfort to Mulch.

"Alright cat," demanded Abbot Stiech, doing his best to be harsh and unyielding in his debate, "what are your terms for the release of this beast?"

Jagger smiled, and evil grimace showing his yellowed fangs. "You have two options, you can surrender this wonderful fortress to us," the abbots eyes visibly darkened, "Or, you can keep you pretty red house and tell us where the rest of the food stores are."

Abbot Stiech was shocked, how had they found the stores? Did Mulch help them? Did we make a mistake in letting these beasts deliberate with us? His mind reeled full of questions, making him dizzy. Grumman and Trey took a step towards the abbot, ready to catch him if he fell.

"Well, mousie. Do you have an answer?"

"Never!" gasped the abbot, falling back into the paws of Trey and Grumman. As he fell he made a quick but obvious wave of his paw, placing it upon is forehead as if wiping sweat away from his eyes. Jaggar took no notice of this, only seeing it for what it was. But behind him, noticing the signal from their abbot, Dwaka and two other otters came out from behind the open oak doors.

They slunk, blades in paw, attempting to sneak up as quickly and quietly as possible. The plan was to grab Mulch from the big dumb looking polecat and then run, leaving the polecats to be pepper-bombed from the upper dormitory windows while the Redwallers ran to the safety of Cavern Hole. But all that could go wrong went wrong.

As the otters snuck up on the polecats, one of the pepper-bombs that was sitting on the windowsill, ready to be picked up and thrown, was jarred loose by a passing Dibbun. The leaf bag full of the pungent hotroot powder plummeted towards the ground, bursting into a red cloud of eye stinging, fur staining spice. Jaggar stepped back, turning to shield his eyes from the venomous cloud. He turned and faced the three otters, their cover blown. Seeing no other option, the three otters ran as fast as they could towards Tripik, trying to snatch Mulch.

Jaggar reacted much faster than they could think. "Tripik," he shouted, "Pass me the mole."

Reacting out of instinct, the huge polecat tossed Mulch through the air, paw over tail. Jaggar caught Mulch and held him up for the otters to see. He quickly drew his dagger and sliced Mulch's neck. Blood gushed from the open wound, the sanguine liquid staining the cobblestones in the courtyard. Jaggar dropped Mulch and ran towards the otters, dropping his shoulder and ramming Dwaka with a full force blow, nearly snapping the otter's neck. Jaggar continued to run toward the gate. Tripik, seeing his leader flee, drew his own blade and charged threateningly at the remaining two otters. Not wanting the same or even worse fate as their comrade, they hurriedly ducked out of the way. Tripik caught up with Jaggar outside the gates, and the pair turned around, Jaggar shouting at the Abbeybeasts, "You have made a big mistake you pathetic beasts. We will find the rest of your food caches and we will lay siege upon Redwall, until you have no choice but to die of starvation, or surrender your pathetic fortress."

But no beast heard these angry words. All eyes and ears were focused on the courtyard, where Marta and Gwen were trying to tend to the injuries of Mulch and Skipper Dwaka. Marta looked up from the still form of Dwaka, "Gwen, Skipper is going to live, albeit with a thundering headache when he wakes, but he'll be alive."

Gwen looked up, her eyes misting over, "Marta, Mulch is already dead." She began to cry. "He was dead before we even got here."

Marta walked over to Gwen, kneeled down beside the Sister, and wrapped an arm around her shoulder. They remained huddled beside Mulch's bloodstained body, quivering with open weeping until the sun slipped behind the horizon. The last beams of light stabbed at the clouds, causing them to bleed red, mocking the congealed blood surrounding the mole's limp form.

Darkness came quickly and quietly, enveloping the abbey with a dread and an even deeper sadness. No light of hope burned through the night.


	6. Chapter 5

Ark ran as fast as his paws would carry him along the branch. He neared the end and leapt, clearing a vast open space and landing a few branch levels lower of the adjacent tree. He dug his claws in deep into the tree branch and steadied himself. "Beat that, bush tail!" He playfully yelled back at squirrel standing on the branch he had jumped from.

"Easy!" Hufftail retorted. He backed up till his tail was pressed against the trunk like a spring. "Here, I, GO!" On go the squirrel pushed off of the trunk with his tail and launched into a full out sprint to the end of the branch. He threw his body off the limb in a spread eagle fashion, outstretched paws flailing against the rushing of air past his body. Then surprisingly gracefully, Hufftail landed on the same branch as Ark. He looked at Ark, lifted his nose into the air and snuffed, "Ha, easy as walking."

Ark laughed at this show of prowess, noting to himself at how ungracefully the squirrel had flown through the air in comparison to him. But not wanting to anger his elder, Ark replied, "I never doubted you."

"Hey!" a taunting voice called out, "Ark, are you STILL practicing your long jump?" Ark glowered, embarrassed by the fact. "Haha, I could beat you anyday, without practice!"

Recognizing the voice he called out, "Oh shut up Redair, the only reason you stay in the air so long is because you're so full of hot air!" Ark smiled at his clever pun.

"Fine, no-tail, right here, right now! Up here!"

Ark looked up to the top of the alder tree to see and bright red flash of fur plummeting down onto him, but at the last second, Redair caught a thin branch and swung acrobatically, landing mere whisker-widths away from Ark. "Ok blackie, here are the rules. I jump, and then you jump. If you don't make it, I win. But if you make it, then you jump. If I can't make the same jump you can then you win. But I doubt that will ever happen."

Ark stared menacingly into the squirrel's eyes. "You're on!"

Without further ado, Redair sprinted off the end of the branch and landed a decent, but easy jump. Ark followed suit, landing easily in front of Redair. Not slowing to see if the red furred squirrel was following, he dashed along the branch to the trunk, dug in his claws and began to climb up to a higher branch. Ready to up the ante, Ark ran, but didn't throw himself off the end of the branch like previous jumps. Instead he loped off the end, falling for what seemed for ever before he grabbed onto a thin branch and swung, just like Redair had done earlier, all except from a higher height. Redair gave a mocking laugh as he merely waked off the end and caught the same branch as Ark and landed much softer than Ark and continued to run along the branch. Following quickly, Ark watched as Redair dropped to the forest floor, and hopped onto a fallen log. Ark played along and followed the squirrel.

The log was propped up on another log so it at one end. Heading towards the high end, Redair suddenly dropped off the edge of the log. Ark began to laugh, but was silenced quickly as he noticed Redair sprawled against the bottom of the log, clinging on for all he was worth. The squirrel began to climb along the bottom of the log, until he reached the end, where he grabbed the edge, kicked off with his hind paws, and swung around until his hind paws were above his head, grasping onto splinters of wood. From this inverted position, Redair thrust himself outwards, flipping so he was upright, but facing backwards. He then rotated 180 degrees, continued to fly through the air, and then grasped the thick, soggy bark of a nearby tree. Ark stared in awe, it looked impossible, but Redair had just done it. So Ark did exactly as Redair had. He desperately clung to the bottom of the log, inched his way along, flipped himself up into the inverted position, and flung himself forward. The whole process was much easier than I looked, and Ark found that he had more than enough time to not only flip and spin once, but twice! He dug his claws into the cedar tree alongside Redair, casually smiled and began to hustle his way up the tree.

Redair fumed, and then begrudgingly followed his adversary up the tree.

Ark reached one of the lower branches within seconds. He then jumped up and swung up onto the branch above him. He took a quick second to survey his surroundings. Off to his left was a pine tree, directly ahead was an enormous oak, and to his right was a weeping willow. _Perfect!_ Ark thought to himself.

He continued to climb, looking down occasionally to see if Redair was still following. He was, so Ark kept on climbing until he was within body-lengths of the top of the tree. There was no wind, so the narrow top of the tree was still. Ark began to throw his weight back and forth, making the pinnacle of the tree sway. It soon got the point where he was almost unable to hold on. Finally on the very last forward sway, Ark launched himself as far as he could away from the tree, dropping through the air, paws outspread. He fell, faster and faster, getting closer and closer to the willow. And the ground. Ark felt the willow branches and their fine leaves begin to brush against his paws; he clenched his paws, gripping the whippy branch for all he was worth. His descent slowed, and he no longer was slipping on the branch, but his forward momentum carried him far. The branch he held onto swung dangerously fast, heading directly towards the truck. Calmly Ark let go of the branch and dropped further, quickly snagging a second branch. He gradually slowed, hopping from vine like branch to vine like branch until he had reached the ground.

He triumphantly raised a clenched paw and looked expectantly up at Redair, who was now at the top of the tree. The red squirrel reminded Ark of a guide without a lodestone, anxious and unsure. Eventually, he saw Redair build up courage and begin to rock the treetop. Then, far too soon, Redair launched himself off the tree, barely clearing the first couple of branches. Ark immediately knew something was wrong, but was helpless to do anything. Instead he was forced to watch in horror, as Redair fell smashing into cedar boughs, flung like a rag doll from recoil between branches.

Seconds later, a red lump of fur fell at the base of the cedar tree. The form lay limp, as if it had been deflated. Ark rushed over to Redair's side, calling out as he approached, "Redair? Redair? Are you alright? Redair! Talk to me!"

The red squirrel lay silently, not moving. Then, like a balloon being filled with air, Redair took a deep hoarse breath. His eyelids flickered open, deep chestnut eyes slowly defogged, and Redair stared at Ark. Ark began to speak, wanting to say how sorry he was and what a mistake it was for him to have accepted the challenge, and how he shouldn't have let his pride be willing to put Redair's life in danger. But before he could open his mouth, Redair cracked a horrendous smile and asked with complete innocence, "Ark! Why did you push me off the branch?"

Ark was confused. "What?!" he exclaimed, "I didn't touch you!"

Redair smiled, "But will they believe you?" he chuckled, motioning with his eyes to the group of squirrels that was moving in their direction.

Ark stared for a moment in horror. He wracked his brain for any solution to fix this horrible situation. None came, and the situation only got worse. The squirrels noticed Ark kneeling over Redair's limp body and raced over. The first one tackled Ark and pinned him to the ground, threatening to smash his face in if he even tried to hurt Redair anymore. Two others fell at Redair's side checking for broken bones and other lacerations. A fourth squirrel began to ask questions about how it had all happened. "What happened?"

"Ark pushed me." Redair lied.

"I did not!" Ark defended, "You fell!" Ark realized the futility of that argument, seeing as squirrels never fall out of trees. He tried again, "You fell on purpose!"

"Why would I do that, _cough_, argh, my side!" the red furred squirrel screamed in pain as one of the medics prodded an extremely sore spot.

"You hate me! That's why! You want to get me in trouble!" Ark was near tears.

"Shut up mole!" The squirrel who had pinned him shouted, throwing in a punch to the snout for good measure.

Ark's eyes watered up, he looked at his sharpened digging claws. He didn't belong here. Why was he here then?

_Five seasons earlier_

_"Buftor! Come look!" an excited squeal came from a nearby branch. _

_Buftor clambered over to the voice scolding as she went, "Trin, don't call me Buftor, I am your mother, not a little friend of yours. Now will you please keep the noise level down, there are sensible squirrels trying to sleep around here."_

_"But mama, there be a likkle mole down there."_

_"What? A mole, in these woods?" Buftor looked down to the forest floor to see a tiny black form huddled in a small patch of moss. "Well, a life is a life, squirrel or not." Buftor reasoned out loud. She slowly climbed down the tree and picked up the baby mole. He was quivering from the cold, his tiny paws nearly blue from the lack of circulation. Buftor rubbed him with her paws, trying to generate some heat. She soon realized that this mole would need to be taken to a home where somebeast could care for it until it recovered. Knowing that no squirrel in this community, other than her even liked Dibbun sized squirrels, let alone and baby mole, she tucked the mole into a fold in her robe and climbed up to her tree house and laid him by the fire._

_Trin excitedly examined the tiny mole babe, tickling his cold paws, hoping for a reaction. Buftor looked sternly at Trin, motioning for her to leave the room. She sent Trin to fill a water bucket from the stream. Trin returned almost immediately, sloshing water on the floor. _

_Patiently, Buftor took the water and began to heat it, while cradling the mole babe, trying to warm him up, even a little bit. She added herbs and fruit to the water, and stirred intermediately. Eventually a thick medicinal smelling steam filled the tree house, and moistened the room, filling the air with a mind clearing fume._

_The baby mole woke up from its cold induced sleep, stirred in Buftor's paws and fell into a deep content sleep._

_"Mama," Trin asked, "What's we gonna call him?"_

_"Ark, honey, we will call him Ark."_

_Over the next few seasons, Ark grew up to be a strong independent mole, living among squirrels. He had struggled at first, learning how to climb, not only because of his natural born fear of heights, but also because of his blunt digging claws. He found a solution to both these problems by sharpening his claws to near razor blades. He could impale nearly anything on his claws._

_His fear of heights dissipated almost immediately following this, because he could now climb, and be able to keep up with the young squirrels._

_Before long, Ark became a squirrel in mole's clothing. He could run as fast, jump farther and higher, and climb better than most squirrels. His acrobatic ability was renowned, being able to flip and spin much quicker, because he had no need to compensate for a large bushy tail._

_But because he was a mole, he was disliked. Even by only known family. Buftor quickly became distant to him, claiming she only raised him because he demanded to stay in her home._

_Ark began to become farther and farther away from the tribe. But he was still connected, because no matter where he went in the forest, Redair and his gang would come and get him in trouble somehow, and he would be taken back to the village to be punished._

Back at the main hall of the squirrel tribe, the group of self-appointed elders laid their judgment upon Ark. "You have disgraced this tribe with your presence once again. Can you not leave our young squirrels alone, mister Ark?" A grey squirrel questioned rhetorically. "As for your punishment, you shall be forced to remain in this hall until the sun has set four times upon it. You will receive no food or water. That should help you to remember that trying to hurt one of our young ones will only make your life worse!"

Ark didn't care anymore. He just remained in his seat as the hall emptied out. The doors were firmly shut, preventing him from escaping.

Ark stood up tiredly, walked over to the closet in the corner of the room, and pulled out a blanket. He felt like the blanket belonged to him because he had used it so many times before when he was locked inside the hall. Curling up into a small black ball, he fell asleep on the wooden floor. A tiny mole babe curled up on a bed of moss.


	7. Chapter 6

Hey! Now we meet the searats! (You have one second to boo and hiss these villains.) Ok, actually, I think these rats are pretty cool. Or at least I did, until I finished the chapter. So now their pretty much back to evil vermin. Gah, who needs politicians anyway?

Yeah, sorry bout the length, a bit short, but hey, 'tis only the beginning of the story.

Sitgar smelled the ocean air, breathing deeply, letting the salty air saturate his senses. His eyes watered slightly from the breeze that his ship was pointed against. The gloomy, grey clouded sky offered no consolation to the searat, blocking sunlight like the ominous shadow of a foe, coming to finish off the wounded. Surrounded by a blanket of water, so deep blue it appeared black, Sitgar felt like he was in the middle of a vice, slowly squeezing his sanity from him, boring him beyond belief. Staring out into the grey-black gloom he strained his vision, hoping for a sign of land, a puff of smoke, a sail on the horizon. Nothing. Complete and utter silence surrounded the ship as its sails fluttered lazily in the weak, head-on breeze. The captain knew that his ship wouldn't be venturing any farther north today.

After leaving the friendly coasts of Eastern Mossflower, the captain and his ragtag crew had sailed to the Deep South, long passing Salamandastron. They sailed to wild and wondrous lands, far beyond imagination. But soon the heat became unbearable, Stilgar and his crew wilted like leaves in a drought. Fighting to return to the more comfortably cool northern waters, he and his crew nearly lost their lives. After nearly a season of unbearable heat, unfavorable winds, and tacking, the crew was blessed with a strong northerly wind. The hot air from the deepest reaches of the harsh and foreign land blasted the intruders hard and fast back to home waters before leaving them stranded here, in the middle of nowhere. "Blast it!" Sitgar thought, mentally cursing the wind, their ill luck, their lack of income, and the soon to be mutiny within the crew.

Unlike most searats, Sitgar was cultured and civilized. Upon choosing and ranking his crew, he had made up a set of strict but fair rules. The first had been that if the crew disliked the decisions of the captain, they would formally announce a mutiny, and a civilized vote would be taken, each crew member with their own amount of votes. After the votes were tallied, the mutineers would either take the ship under their control, or be sent to the brig for scouring depending upon the outcome of the vote.

Everybeast in the crew knew these rules and understood them, and they actually respected their captain. He had led them on many successful escapades throughout the seas, bringing in large amounts of profit with them after said adventures. But after the Arikaan trip, the crew was uneasy about their captain. After so many good raids, the exploratory gone suicide trip was just about enough to convince them that their captain had gone mad. Not to mention the crew had only lost supplies and nearly their lives, and had gained nothing.

"Alright cap'n, the crewbeasts are ready to vote." Sitgar's first mate informed, "And I'm afeard that it don't look too much in your favor cap'n."

"Thank you Krin," he smiled at the searat, remembering better days, "And, seeing as the vote will most likely result in mutiny, thank you for supporting and trusting me as a captain for all these seasons."

Both rats smiled wryly, knowing that their time was up and that the days of civility upon the Crabclaw were over. With grim satisfaction, the seafaring rats, glanced once more at the horizon, not giving up hope, then locked their jaws and entered the galley where the fate of the Crabclaw would be determined.

The galley reeked of rotten meat and unwashed dishes. The stench was only topped by the odor of unwashed rat. But after nearly a full season at sea, the grimy rodents had gotten used to the smell, and acknowledged it as a way of seafaring life. Standing in the middle of the tour-de-odor was the ringleader of the mutiny. Tzak was a tall, for a searat, lean, and mean fighting machine. He had been hired as a fighter, only in for the plunder. Apparently though, the rat had a mind. Finding a way to manipulate the crew to his point of view, only the closest officers and Sitgar himself were still loyal to his rule aboard the ship.

"Shut up all y'blatherin' beasts, the cap'n is 'ere!" Tzak shouted, showing the little respect that remained for Sitgar.

"Thank ye, Tzak," Sitgar acknowledged. He nodded at his first mate, indicating to begin the voting.

The loyal rat walked to the head of the galley, stepping up onto a stool, wavering slightly at first, and then gaining his balance on the teetering stool. "Crew, we now begin da voting. Tzak, what form of vote do you demand?"

Tzak replied with full confidence, "Open, please."

Sitgar was surprised by this decision. With an open vote, no ballots were cast, only verbal bids were thrown, open showing who was loyal and who wasn't. _Tzak must be awful confident that he's got the crew against me._ Sitgar thought to himself.

"Alright then, let the voting begin with Tzak, then speak up as I point to ye."

With a large amount of drama, the first mate raised his paw and forcefully pointed at Tzak, "I vote for the hading over of the ship to my rule, on account of the Arikaan disaster."

First mate pointed to the next searat.

"Tzak," then the next

"Tzak"

"Tzak"

"Tzak"

The first mate had made his way around the rest of the circle, only counting one vote for Sitgar, from himself. He finally made his way to Sitgar, speaking with authority he pronounced, "Sitgar Quicktail, as stated in the rules presented to the crew upon joining, the captain has one last chance to overrule the rebellion. Will you take action upon Tzak's challenge of your authority?"

Sitgar paused, after pursing his thin black lips numerous times he spoke. "Yes I shall-"

An uproar went up from the searats, the democratic vote was lost! Sitgar had turned away from everything he had taught them.

"Quiet, I'm not done yet!" Sitgar shouted, "Now if you beasts will listen for a second please," he cleared his throat, staring at the roof as if looking for inspiration, "I shall take action, but not in the form you think. As captain of the Crabclaw, I formally surrender this vessel into the ruling hands of Tzak Gindar."

A collective sigh went up from the crew, including the first mate. Tzak smiled. "Well old beast, it seems that your time has come. Die!" And with those words, Tzak drew his crooked dagger, still bloodstained from their last battle, and plunged it deep into Sitgar's chest. Blood spurted from the jagged hole, staining Sitgar's white silk shirt a deep crimson. His eyes glazed over with an expression of horror at the stupefying act which had just taken place.

Tzak grinned evilly showing his pearly white incisors, clean and sharp. "Now," he paused, turning for all to see his sadistic grin. "Is there anyone else who still follows the late Sitgar Politicpants?" He laughed a devilish laugh, his voice screeching through the high pitched guffaws.

The crew recoiled in horror, wondering what sort of beast they had mistakenly released, and what fate would come their way because of this horrendous mistake.


	8. Chapter 7

I actually find it kinda funny. I write way better when I listen to music. Some people can't concentrate whatsoever on reading or writing when there is music in the background. It kinda sucks. For them. Here I am, screaming along to my Underoath as I write a happy-go-lucky Redwall story. Well...Actually, it is kinda depressing. I've almost killed an entire Abbey. Broken Salamandastron into factions. Made everyone hate a wicked-awsome-cool mole, who can flip and climb like a squirrel. I've killed Mulch. Which is too bad, he was a good character. I could have gone somewhere with him. But that is why we have ARK! So this right here. Is me being too lazy to write chapter nine, because I'm just a sucker for reviews. But I don't beg.

Oh, yeah. And I apologize in advance for the lame guinea pig puns later in the chapter.

PLEASE, please Review!!! I need your help! Whaaahahahaahhaha :P

A dark haze filled Redwall. It was a gloom so deep that it dampened even the lightest of heart. Those already suffering from emotional scars were dragged deeper into the pit of growing blackness. The darkened hallways seemed to spew night from each open doorway. Marta did her best not to shudder as she walked down the more than gloomy hallway. Rounding the corner, she entered the infirmary finding all the patients in all their usual places. They had already lost nearly half-score beasts to the plague within their stone walls. Only if something miraculous happened would Redwall survive the raging epidemic and the siege in the middle of winter.

Marta surveyed the patients, some were actually beginning to pull through, but they would be weak for many days, and be forced to remain in the disease ridden infirmary. Tobias, the little mouse whom Marta cared so deeply for, not wanting to see such a young creature pass on, had begun to recover. Even at fifteen seasons of age, he was still the youngest by far in the infirmary.

Marta came over to his bed and sat on the edge, removing the damp cloth that had been placed on his head earlier that day. To her great surprise, it was only body temperature. Startled at this great revelation, Marta quickly shook Tobias' shoulders, attempting to wake the mouse. _Either he is dead or better_ Marta thought to herself, pleading for the answer to be the latter. Like a boat being pushed by a light breeze on a midsummer's day, Tobias came to. His delicate eyelids flickered, giving brief glimpses of his deep hazelnut brown eyes. "Hello Tobias," Marta gently intoned, "You seem to have recovered from the sickness, you no longer have a temperature."

Weakly, yet with determination, the young mouse replied, "That is good, when can I get out of bed?"

Marta laughed at Tobias' audacity, "Soon enough Toby, soon enough. Now get some rest, the only way to get out of the bed is to stay in it for a bit longer."

The irony made them both smile.

Marta got up and left the infirmary, having other important business to attend to. She once again marched down the long gloomy hallways, wishing for some source of light. Abbot Steich had placed the abbey under strict orders in an effort to conserve fuel and food. This meant no light in the hallways, no snacks, and the infirmary was the only place allowed to have a fire.

Stumbling slightly in the self induced darkness, Marta continued on her way to her meeting with Abbot Steich, Gwen, Grumman, Dwaka, and Cellarhog Furny. After a few more steps she entered the library. A safe haven in times of peril.

The five greeted her as she walked towards them. She sat down beside Grumman, patting him on the back as a thankful greeting. Now that all six members of the newly appointed war council were sitting together Abbot Stiech started out to begin the meeting. "My dear friends, it seems that we have a major dilemma on our hands. An epidemic within our walls, an enemy outside, we are trapped with our worst nightmare by our worst nightmare. We need a solution here and now." To emphasize his point, the elderly abbot slammed his paw on the table, rattling the legs and startling the rest of the group.

A silence fell over the group for a fairly long time, each beast doing their best to formulate some sort of solution to this seemingly unsolvable dilemma.

"Maybe we should just try to wait it out," Marta suggested, "In the infirmary Tobias is nearly recovered fully, and the others could make a recovery anytime soon." She looked hopefully into the eyes of the other councilbeasts.

They only returned her hopeful glance with pity in their eyes. They didn't see the hope in the situation. Marta felt her insides turn to lead, sinking far into her gut, making her feel sick.

Abbot Stiech slowly spoke, choosing his words carefully, "Marta, you seem to see a fair amount of hope in this situation. I hate to be a pessimist," The abbot paused to clear his throat, "but if you haven't noticed, realistically, there is no hope. Even if we survive this plague, we could die of famine. If we somehow survive the lack of food and the extreme cold of this winter we still have to deal with the polecats." Stiech's eyes dropped, until he was staring at the table.

"There has to be a way to save us," Marta claimed, "Redwall has never fallen. Why should it now? Matthias faced Cluny the Scourge, yet he found a way to kill the vile beast and save Redwall. So many young heroes have found so many ways. This is not impossible. We can and WILL find a cure for this sickness. The polecats are nothing compared to previous foes that Redwall has repelled." Marta felt her blood rising in temperature, a righteous anger flowed through her veins, "So, now after all these seasons of prosperity, all these seasons of soft living, are we just willing to give up at the first sign of adversity? Who are you beasts? How can you call yourselves Redwallers when all you do is sit around and mope all day about how your beautiful fortress will soon become your grave? Well, I have a message for you, THAT WILL HAPPEN! UNLESS YOU DO SOMETHING!" Marta screamed. Hot tears of mixed emotions boiled their way down her face. "Now think," She took a deep breath, "What can we do? What would Martin do?"

Surprised by the sudden outburst of emotion, Abbot Stiech sat rigid in his chair. A silence fell over the group once again. Marta stared at each of the others; they avoided her gaze, ashamed looks coming across their faces.

"Marta, never in my time here as Abbot have I heard a beast speak so passionately about protecting our abbey." He looked down, reaching deep within trying to summon the courage to speak again, "It seems that you are right," the proud abbot admitted. "We have been lulled to sleep by our complacency." Stiech smiled, "We do need to act. And judging by your demonstration here," he glanced at Marta, "I see no one better than you Marta, to lead the organization and direction of food and supplies within this abbey. Would do this old mouse a favor?"

Marta accepted this prestigious responsibility immediately with a resounding, "Yes!"

Before anybeast could congratulate Marta on her bravery and encourage her in her new job, a knock came at the doorway into the library. The group whirled to see Tobias standing at the door, in his infirmary smock. His hazel eyes stared blankly off into oblivion, and an eerie peace surrounded the near angelic figure.

Marta began to rise to send him back to bed, but quickly took her seat again when a strong noble voice spoke from deep inside Tobias.

_Your foe searches for a weapon which will mean the end of Redwall_

_Follow closely, to save you all._

_The smallest entry, leads to the greatest destruction_

_If taken by the wrong beast_

_The smallest entry, leads many to safety_

_When the time is right_

_Search for this, to save your life._

Tobias immediately closed his eyes, slumping to the floor. Marta rushed over to him, checked his vital signs, and declared him fine. She picked up his limp form and carried him to the infirmary.

Back in the library, the remaining five were furiously discussing what Tobias had said, and what it meant. They knew for sure that it had been Martin speaking through Tobias, and that whatever the message was, it was important.

"Gwen, do you remember the entire riddle?" Furny asked quickly.

"I remember most of it," Gwen replied, and she began to recite Martin's words, "Your foe searches for a weapon which will mean the end of Redwall

Follow closely, to save you all.

The smallest entry, leads to the greatest destruction

If taken by the wrong beast

The smallest entry, leads many to safety

When the time is right

Search for this, to save your life."

Abbot Stiech stood up and began to pace in circles around the table. He spoke aloud, mainly to himself, but loud enough for the others to hear. "They are trying to find something powerful. That is clear. The entry is important, is it someplace in Redwall? If it is, where is it?" He stopped pacing and looked at the other councilbeasts, looking for approval as he spoke, "We are looking for a small entrance to Redwall, which can cause major destruction if evildoers use the way." Dwaka nodded in agreement, so did Gwen, Furny, and Grumman. Steich paused, as if he lost his line of thought.

Politely, Dwaka continued Stiech's thoughts in his own words, "So that means that we are looking for a door. A small door that beasts can sneak in and out of."

"The wicker gate!" exclaimed Furny, "Back when foebeasts seemed to attack the abbey every season, many tried to sneak in through the wicker gate because it was small and out of sight of the main gate and gatehouse."

Gwen continued excitedly, "And if us Redwallers ever needed to escape quickly into Mossflower, the wicker gate would provide a safe, unobservable way out."

All their eyes collectively lit up, immediately proud of their ingenious discovery.

"Well then beasts, we need someone who will go examine the wicker gate to the best of their ability and find whatever it is that Martin has told us about. The rest of us should go to sleep."

Gwen spoke up. "You know Abbot, we do have all winter, maybe we could all go to bed, and then search tomorrow when there will be a bit lighter."

Seeing no objection from Furny, Grumman, and Dwaka, Abbot Steich agreed with Gwen. "Yes, it would be best for us to get a good night's sleep before we go gallivanting around our polecat surrounded abbey." The group mused at the dry humor and then stood up and went their separate ways, heading to bed.

Gwen made one quick stop in the infirmary before going to bed. She met Marta there, as she was finishing up her rounds. "Toby is fine. I think that he will be able to come out of the infirmary by tomorrow." Marta smiled with pride, as she stroked Tobias' forehead with gentle pride.

Gwen spoke quietly from across the room, "That is very good Marta, unfortunately for us, Toby is the only one getting better. So far, all the others have only got worse. Why do you think Toby has recovered?"

Marta thought for a moment, examining the pieces and trying to fit them together. Suddenly a radical idea struck her, "Gwen," she excitedly asked, "what symptoms do the other patients have?"

Stalling slightly, Gwen looked at Marta as if she was from a different planet, "Well, they get very cold, shiver, yet complain about the heat constantly."

Marta was shocked, maybe her idea was correct! Quickly she asked another question, "Did Tobias ever have any of those symptoms?"

Gwen started to catch on to Marta's idea, "Yes, but he had vermin fever before it. Not a very bad case, but enough to keep him in bed. He was nearly better from it when he was hit by our mystery disease, but he recovered even faster than he did from the vermin fever." Both Sisters paused, staring at each other, wondering if this radical idea could be anywhere close to viable.

"Gwen, do you think that Toby's fever caused him to be partially immune to the disease?"

"It is a strong possibility Marta, but I don't know for sure. We need to test it. But how?"

Marta looked around the room, all of the patients were quite sick and relatively old, but none seemed to be sick and old enough to be willing to try out Marta and Gwen's possible miracle cure.

A groan came from the corner, and they both turned to investigate the noise. "I heard you talking," said a weak voice from a dark corner bed. "I am willing to try it."

Marta and Gwen squinted, opened their eyes fully, and did various things to try to put a face to whoever was speaking to them. "Besides," the voice continued, "I am a guinea pig."

"Oh! Crandle, no, we couldn't do that to you," Marta replied, almost pleading with the elderly guinea pig. "You hardly even got to live at Redwall, now you may already be dying. I can't risk the life of someone like you."

In the darkness, Marta imagined Crandle smiling from his tone of voice, "Marta, don't worry. I have lived many a happy season, and if this possible cure doesn't work then it will quicken my passing, and end my suffering."

Begrudgingly, Marta accepted this sacrificial offer. "Ok Crandle, thank you so much. And if this doesn't work, I am very sorry and will take responsibility for your death."

"WE will," Gwen added, comforting Marta.

"Oh you two, really, this is my decision, if I die, then it is over. It won't be your fault. Now please, try this miracle cure before I die of this dreaded disease."

Gwen hurriedly got up and headed over to a cabinet and slowly drew a pin from the pincushion. She walked over to Tobias' bed and pricked him lightly on his paw, and a small droplet of blood rose to the surface like a rose bud. She rolled the pin in the blood and then stood up and carried the pin to Crandle's bed. "Please hold out your paw Crandle." The guinea pig obliged, placing his paw, palm up in Gwen's outstretched paw. Gwen dragged the pin across the tough skin, scratching the surface enough to raise small rivulets of blood on Crandle's paw. She swirled the pin with Tobias' blood into Crandle's paw. "There, that's it." Gwen declared.

Marta gently wrapped the cut to make sure that the infected miracle blood would not drip off. "Thank you so much Crandle. Your willingness may save an entire abbey from dying of this dreaded disease." She looked at Gwen in the dark room, and declared with a sense of tentative hope, "All we do now is wait and see if this will save us all."

Finally, after a day of finding two major possible solutions to two major problems, Marta and Gwen headed off to bed.

Yeah. So if you are wondering about the science here...

The mystery disease is a bacterial infection of unknown origin or make.

Vermin Fever is a virus. It is a bacteriophage, meaning it attacks and destroys bacteria. Normally, it would attack the helpful bacteria in the Redwaller's guts, rendering them nearly incapable to digest food. But with Vermin Fever attacking the cells that are reproducing the quickest, the bacteria cells in the Redwaller's body, the mystery disease is rendered hopeless as it is eaten away by a simple, easy to cure disease.

You can thank Biology 11 for the science, and my imagination for the rest.


	9. Chapter 8

Ark's four days of isolation brought him no comfort or stole any either. The time was spent solely alone, he even enjoyed the solitude, not moping or whining. Before he knew it, the four days were up and he was forced back into "civilization."

He spent much of his time alone, climbing trees and practicing his long jump, even after the disastrous results of his last practice session. The only friend he really had was Hufftail, an older, but mentally challenged squirrel. They were outcasts together, a group of loaners. In their eyes though, they were the only civilized beasts in the entire colony. Which was probably true.

As the doors to the meeting hall were opened Ark stood up slowly and put away his blanket. He made no effort to look excited, because he wasn't. In fact, he found it rather depressing that he was being forced into the squirrel community again. Sauntering slowly to the door, he stared daggers at the guard squirrel. After feeling that he had thoroughly intimidated the beast, he ran off the edge of the platform in signature style and landed with ease on a branch a fair ways below the platform. Not looking back he wandered back to his residence to get a drink of water and some food.

Back at the main hall the elders were meeting again. Over the past seasons, they had developed a strong disliking for Ark; you could say they hated his guts. "We must find a way to get rid of that darned mole!" One stated with a whining twinge in his voice as if he was afraid of Ark.

"That is a given," the self-appointed meeting leader agreed, "But how can we do so?"

There was a pause in the deliberations. Ark was able to defeat any given squirrel at any given time in a one-on-one challenge, not even considering his dangerously sharpened digging claws. Ark rarely did anything wrong, he was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. Everyone in the colony knew that, but someone had to be the scapegoat.

"What if," one of the oldest members suggested, "during one of his many long jump training sessions, we rig a trap for him? Then he would fall and it would look like an accident."

"That could work," agreed the leader, "but Ark is extremely capable of recovering from a fall...I have seen him trip numerous times and still manage to grasp a limb with ease, almost as if he planned the event."

"Then we must have somebeast push him." bluntly stated the elderly elder. (Sure it is redundant, but that is what makes it stupid.)

"Who?" incredulously asked the leader, "We may have murder on our minds, but we are a peaceful tribe. I don't even remember the last fight within members, if there even was one."

"We could go to...her." cautiously mentioned one red furred squirrel.

The suggestion brought silence to the table. Even the mention of her was enough to bring a nervous twitches into the faces of most the members. For many long moments, the suggestion hung above the table, suspended by a thread of a more sane idea. The thread snapped. "It is the only way." declared the leader. "I shall leave today and hopefully arrive tomorrow to receive her services. I'll need some form of payment too."

The elders nodded and reluctantly said their hasty farewells to the Headmaster, knowing that they may have just brought doom upon their colony because of one small mole.

Headmaster walked back to his tree house, gave his wife a brief kiss on the cheek and gathered his traveling gear. He had to blow the dust off of most of the crucial pieces, seeing as the only thing he ever used was the cloak. Long and black, the beeswax sealed cape was not only comfortable as it was intimidating. The hood sloped forward covering the wearer's face, giving a sense of evil to the beast who dared to wear it.

Fastening the bronze clasp around his neck, Headmaster adjusted his haversack so it rode more comfortably, then kissing his wife once more, he headed out the door.

That evening Headmaster made a camp about two leagues from the camp. He had walked a decent amount during the day and would make it easily to her by early the next morning. He was forced to camp in the middle of an open field because there were no trees within reasonable walking distance of his current position. Headmaster felt awkward and naked, sleeping so close to the ground, exposed to the elements and any beast's roving eye. Unable to sleep, he lay staring at the stars, counting to infinity and beyond. Finally, sleep captured the Headmaster and swept him away in a torrent of wicked nightmares. Only morning would bring comfort to the conspirator in Ark's soon to be murder.

Headmaster rose early with the sun, only eating a small nut scone which he had packed in preparation. He walked for the better part of the early morning, wandering through ever densening forests. As he walked deeper into the waking forest, the sounds of bluebirds and sparrows became sparser and sparser, until only the occasional caw of a crow would attract Headmaster's attention. The ominous trees seemed to rise higher and higher the farther he went. The moss on the sides of the trees and the lichen hanging from the branches soon became more obvious than the trees themselves. Treading lightly now, not wanting to disturb the threatening environment, Headmaster spotted the cave where she lived.

The cave was in a clearing of trees, a random boulder with a hole in it. There should have been lighter with the absence of trees, but the clearing seemed to absorb all light, giving the clearing a cave-like appearance. _Ha, a cave within a cave_, Headmaster allowed himself a second of muse, then quickly dampened his spirits with a second glance at the clearing.

"Magga the Black! Ruler of Darkfang Forest and Possessor of Many Souls, I Headmaster, your humble servant have come requesting assistance." Headmaster bowed extremely low, rubbing his forehead in the vile dirt until his forehead was covered with the muck.

A seductive, feminine voice drifted out of the cave. "Enter squirrel, for Magga finds no reason to harm thee. For now."

Tentatively peeking into the cave, Headmaster slowly stepped into the cave, crawling on all fours to show his humility. Or his fear. "Magga the Black, I come with a need, my clan holds a beast that is of the wrong species, but is able to outperform any of our best squirrels. We desperately need your help to exterminate said mole for we are a peaceful tribe, and cannot harm another beast."

The large black form shifted in the darkness, turning to face the prostrate squirrel. "What do you have to give in return for this gracious favor?"

"I have brought many forms of payment," Headmaster lied, "Name your price and I shall see if I have it with me."

"The tip of your tail." she demanded flatly, allowing no room for bargaining.

Headmaster shook with terror and anger, his tail! What sort of beast needed another beast's tail?!

"Of course," Magga continued, "I could just kill you know and take your entire tail for myself. Really, it is the sacrifice that counts here." A sadistic chuckle emanated from the darkness. "So, what shall it be?"

Seeing no way out of the situation other than the obligatory route Headmaster reluctantly agreed. Begrudgingly he drew his knife, and began to cut at the tip of the fur on tail. "No," spoke Magga, "The tip of your TAIL."

Recognizing that his plan hadn't worked, Headmaster grabbed a twig off the floor of the cave and clamped his jaw down on it to muffle his pained screams. Out of complete sworn duty he drew his blade across the tip of his tail. Blood oozed from the wound, staining the fur red. Ending the pain as quickly as possible, Headmaster raised his paw and slashed the tip of his tail clean off in one blow. He grabbed the bloody stump and unceremoniously thrust it at Magga, hating her for every drop of his own blood he had spilled.

"Very good, little squirrel, this must be a significant problem when the chief is willing to sacrifice his own tail for the murder of one of his own clanbeasts."

"He is NOT a clanbeast of mine! He was an orphan that was taken in, now we can't get rid of him."

"Don't worry tiny one, I have the perfect cure for your problem." Magga seemed to grin in the darkness. "Wait outside, this may take a while."

Thankful to be out of the dank cave, Headmaster slumped down on the moss outside the cave. He reached into his haversack and pulled out a long strip of white gauze. He had no recollection to why he had brought it, but was now thankful that he did. Binding his tail carefully, he inwardly cursed Magga for demanding such a high price; he cursed Ark, for ever showing up at the colony. He even cursed Ark's long dead, unknown mother, reefing on her dead soul for giving birth to Ark.

His anger rose quickly, and he soon found that he had wrapped the bandages far too tight, cutting off circulation to the bloody stump.

The sun slowly slipped away, the dark forest becoming near pitch black. Headmaster waved his paw in front of his face. Nothing. Shivering in the darkness, and not so much because of the cold, he waited sullenly. Only wishing that this horrendous event would end soon.

His prayers were answered, not exactly in the way he had hoped, but answered nonetheless. Magga, carrying a candle, walked out of the cave, the meager light from the taxed candle only extending an arm's length away.

"I have what you want." She declared.

She passed him a glass vial with crooked ridges running along its stubby neck. "Once you have opened the seal and poured the solution on your tail," she smiled smugly, handing Headmaster his severed tail tip, "An exact replica of you shall be formed. He will do your bidding for one day, and then he shall dissipate back into the shadows. Unless of course, you die within that day, then my little friend here will occupy your body, while your soul goes to the Dark Forest!"

Headmaster did not know whether to thank the beast or shriek in horror. The thought mortified him, yet he grinned sadistically with Magga, not wanting to anger her.

"Thank you Magga, ruler of the forest." He intoned, bowing long and low before he exited the clearing.

Not being able to see where he was going in the dark, Headmaster did the last thing he wanted to do, and set up camp. At least there were trees for him to sleep in. Curling up uncertainly in the nook of two large branches he drifted off to an uneasy sleep.

Even though he was tortured long and unmercifully by his raging nightmares, Headmaster slept long into the day, not realizing the change from night to day. It was nearly noon when he woke. Clambering down from the tree, he did his best to judge his bearings, and then headed off in the rough direction of the colony.

He walked until he found himself at the edge of the forest, gazing at the sun, which was now almost behind the horizon. Realizing his fault, Headmaster pressed on hard, and barely made it to his original camp by the time the moon was already high in the sky. Once again, he slept restlessly; his actions to be plaguing him like...well... a plague.

Waking to the sound of birds chirping in the fresh morning air, Headmaster once again packed up his belongings and began to march back home. The early spring air was rejuvenating, and was a drastic contrast to the evil deed Headmaster planned to go through with. His footpaws were sore before he began walking, and they only grew worse as the day progressed. Around noon, when the sun was at its pinnacle, beating down on Headmaster like a drop hammer, he stopped at a small stream at the edge of the forest where his colony was. It was only another quarter-day's march to the colony.

Sitting down on the edge of the bank, he placed his feet in the ice cold water, a small gasp escaping his mouth at the drastic change in temperature. He soaked his feet until they were numb then he wrapped his feet in the remaining gauze. It wouldn't be very effective in protecting his sore feet, but it was better than nothing.

Standing up slowly, he followed the creek through the forest until the sun was barely above the horizon, and quickly sinking to its obvious demise. He smelled smoke, and knew that his colony was near. Unceremoniously, he entered the colony grounds being greeted by squirrels as they noticed that he was back. Even Ark found the time to welcome the Headmaster back to the colony.

He went directly to his home and asked his wife to heat some water, so he could soak away the pains of his arduous journey. She noticed the bandage on his tail, but didn't dare ask what had happened, knowing that Headmaster had gone to see Her.

The water heated quickly enough, and Headmaster clambered into the tub and lay back, letting the hot water sink deep into his pores, massaging his very soul. He relaxed in the tub until the water was lukewarm. Slowly raising himself out of his bath, he dried off his fur with a thick plush towel, one of the few luxuries in this relatively primitive colony. Wrapping himself in the towel, he creaked off to bed, feeling his joints ache with each step. He fell into his bed with a soft whump, and immediately fell into a deep exhaustion induced sleep.

Early the next morning, Headmaster rose from bed and rummaged through his haversack, searching for his tail stub and the mysterious potion. He pulled the two ingredients for evil from his bag, and slipped them into an inside pocket on his long robe. Hurrying to a secluded corner of the community, Headmaster placed his tail on the ground, bidding it a final farewell, and then poured the vile black substance over it.

The potion reeked of blood, ash, and death. It ran with the fluidity of molasses, slowly oozing out of the thin, stubby neck of the bottle. Within seconds of contact with the severed tail, a thick indigo smoke began to billow from the tail. Suddenly, a large WHUMP! shook the ground, knocking Headmaster over. Once the smoke had cleared and the ground stopped shaking, Headmaster looked up cautiously. He gasped deeply, his face paling; directly in front of his stood an exact replica of him, even wearing the same robe. Swallowing deeply, he addressed the clone, remembering that it would serve him for one day only. "Beast."

The clone turned. "Beast," Headmaster said again, "I am Headmaster, and you are to serve me for one day."

"That is true."

Headmaster paused for a second, startled at hearing his own voice from within the beast the stood across from him.

"Well, the only thing I ask of you is to kill the mole. His name is Ark. You will find him in the trees near the edge of the colony," he pointed towards the eastern edge of the village. "I need you to make his death look as if he fell off a branch while practicing his jumping."

"Yes, it shall be done." the clone intoned, and then with a devious look in its eye, it turned and added a final remark, "Stop worrying, you look like you've seen a ghost!"

Headmaster immediately passed out, so afraid of the monster he had created.

Ark turned over in his bed one more time, trying to find a position comfortable enough to enable him to get another few minutes of sleep. His efforts were moot, (Yeah! I just used the word "moot" in a sentence!) and he got out of bed very soon after. Yawning and reaching high into the air, he stretched, feeling his drowsy muscles start to awaken. He paced around his room for a couple of minutes, warming up his legs, and then launched into a front flip, landing without a detectable noise. Feeling satisfied with his morning ritual, he headed out into the main living area where his foster-who-hated-him-family lived. He smiled at his "mother" only receiving a cold glare. Ark didn't care, he rarely saw her anyways.

Grabbing a nut scone, he headed out the front door, onto the front porch of the tree house. Chewing thoughtfully on a mouthful of scone, Ark sat down and dangled his footpaws over the vast drop to the forest floor. He stared off into the sunrise, nearly complete. He finished his scone and headed off towards the sun.

Clone watched all these events, granting himself and evil grin. Slowly and quietly he slunk after Ark.

Leaping from branch to branch with ease, Ark headed towards his favorite practice area. It had a willow tree along with two or three birches and a number of other good climbing trees. He climbed up to the top of one of the birches and surveyed his surroundings. The sun was above the horizon, beginning its day long journey to the other side of the world.

Satisfied with the tranquility of the morning, Ark clambered down from the top branches until he found a branch that was roughly parallel to the ground. He walked to the end of the branch to survey the drop. The drop wasn't a huge one, but impressive at least. He turned and walked back to the trunk of the tree, then sprinted towards the end of the branch. As he neared the very end of the branch, a paw reached up from underneath the branch and tripped him up. Ark fell off the branch and began to plummet towards the forest floor far below.

This is where the chapter would end, but seeing as I HATE cliffies, I'm not going to torture you and wait another three or four chapters before telling you how this scene ends. Keep reading!

Reaching out with all of his paws in all directions, he desperately groped for any sort of anchor which he could slow he descent with. He felt a leaf brush his paw, and he closed his paw around it, ripping the leaf clean off the branch. His tumbling soon brought him around so he was heading face first towards the ever rising ground. Seeing one last branch before he met his dirty death (pun intended), Ark threw his weight forward as he had learned to do when compensating for a botched jump. The branch was substantially thick, and Ark couldn't wrap his paws all the way around it, fortunately his momentum carried him in a full loop, like a gymnast on a high bar. He let go as he came around and launched himself up into the air, tucking into a double back flip before landing on the branch which had just saved his life.

Ark panted, adrenaline still pumping through his veins like fire. He looked around for who ever had grabbed his ankle. "Hello?" he called out, "Where are you beast? I know you are there! Show yourself!"

Clone cursed the mole's amazing show of prowess, saving himself from a certain death. Locking away those emotions for later, the twisted Headmaster clone donned a smug, nonchalant smile. "I'm here mole."

Ark was shocked. "Headmaster? Is that really you?"

"Why of course not," Clone commented darkly. "I am an evil clone of your precious leader. And I am here to kill you."

Ark stepped back. Could this really be true? But before he could ask himself anymore questions, Clone came charging at him, unnaturally long and sharp claws outstretched. Dodging swiftly, Ark jumped over his assailant's head and landed on the branch, now behind his opponent. Not bothering to look back, Ark jumped off the branch and landed with his claws embedded in the trunk of the tree and slid down to the ground. Ignoring the middle step, Clone jumped from the branch and landed whisker's lengths away. Ark slashed out with his razor sharp digging claws, slicing Clones gut open. Clone just grinned sadistically. Ark scrambled away in horror as the ethereal clone's torso split open and spewed a black smoke.

Just as unexpectedly as the smoke, Clones torso split vertically, then grew a second half on each side again. "Great, two ghost clones, that is all I need," Ark murmured to himself dryly.

The two clones came at him quickly. Ark feinted to the left, throwing the right clone off of its path, and then he dodged right, slicing clean through the throat of the left clone. Ark watched with morbid fascination as the being's head rolled off its shoulders and plopped onto the ground. This time however, it didn't become two beasts; instead it turned into a dark plume of indigo smoke and dissipated into the morning air. Ark let out a little whoop, knowing that he had found a way to "kill" these ethereal clones.

Before his celebration got out of hand, he was quickly reminded of the other clone as a loud screech came from behind him. He turned to see two Headmaster clones. Had the clone split without being cut? Ark panicked slightly, but calmed himself. _If it can split on its own, then I have to kill them both simultaneously, _He thought to himself.

Ark began to charge at the two clones, his claws outstretched behind him, ready to swing forward with deadly speed and accuracy. One of the clones spoke aloud in a panicked voice to the other, "Get him now!"

But by the time the clone had reacted to its partner's command, Ark had raked both of their bodies with his deadly claws. The first clone fell to the ground a non-fatal cut across it collarbone spewing indigo smoke. The other, however, collapsed to the ground gasping and heaving, crimson blood spewing from his neck. Realizing his massive mistake Ark called out, "Headmaster? No! This has to be a mistake!"

Crying profusely, Ark failed to notice that he had missed a deathblow on the true clone. Behind him, clone stood up, it's cut still spewing smoke. "You have done me a great favor mole."

"How can death be good?" Ark sobbed through his tears, "How?"

"I won't explain it all young mole, just leave now, or I will have to follow through on my orders to kill you."

Unconsciously obeying the ghost clone's orders Ark turned and ran way from the body, running away from the morning sun, chasing his shadow until his legs could run no more.


	10. Chapter 9

Ooooo! Polecats! But now, we got to them, instead of them going to Redwall. Crazy thought eh? Oh, and you all can cheer! Wesley has planned out twenty-nine chapters! Only problem is that, well, the twenty-nine, only gets us about one third or so through the story. So, in about two?...three?...years? I might be done. I hope I have the guts to stick it out. That'd suck if I didn't. I'd be disappointed with myself. Shame...

Whatever. Here is chapter 9, even though the website calls it chapter 10. Crap. Next time, I'm just going to go with chapter one being called "chapter 1" to save confusion. But you are smart people. So it shouldn't be a big deal.

There, I am done my overly extensive A.D.D. blurb, READ NOW!

Boom! An explosion rocked the open seashore, splitting the early morning air with a resounding whump. Burntax stared at the charred remains of the holding cylinder but the lack of damage to the surrounding rock face. He hung his head, frustrated at his such near miss. Calling out in a monotonous voice, he said, "Two parts sulfur, one part charcoal, half portion saltpeter gives off a bright flash, but no damage to surrounding rock face. Bring in the one-to-one-to-half ratio powder."

Carefully adjusting his black powder dusted hat, Burntax scored a line on his slate. So far, of the fifty extra chances that the High Ruler Ddauchloren had granted him, he was on his forty-sixth. Placing the mix of black powder into the pre-drilled hole in the rock face, the head polecat scientist ran a long fuse back to his protection boulder. He yelled quickly, "Fire in the hole!"

Anybeast within hearing range scrambled for cover, knowing that even though Burntax was a systematic beast, he wasn't patient. Within seconds of warning the beasts near him, Burntax had lit the fuse with a log from his always burning fuse fire. Sputtering and spewing sparks, the lit fuse charged towards the awaiting chemicals. Burntax placed his paws over his ears. BOOM! An enormous eruption of sound and rock billowed from the rock wall. Rocks the size of a beast were hurled into the ocean, a good fifty paces away. Tons of pebbles rained down on anybeast within five-score paces, beating them with the most painful shower of their lives. Burntax's boulder was cracked in half by a large piece of rock that went flying like a javelin and landed point into the boulder. Then, all was silent.

It was so quiet that a beast could hear the dust settle, the tiny granules of filth sinking to the ground and into beasts' fur. Tiny tinkling noises continued to speak, as the tiny particles which had been launched near leagues into the air finally came down to the earth. Then, like snow, the dust began to settle completely, leaving a thin layer of brownish-grey dirt covering the entire worksite.

Burntax stood up from his crouched position, his paws over his ears and his eyes shut. He slowly removed his paws from his ears, releasing twin clouds of dust from near his ears, giving him the appearance that he was smoking at the ears. He cracked his left eyelid open, small cascades of dust falling from the moving fur. He slowly rotated his eye from left to right, surveying the dust, the sand, and the boulders in the ocean. Seeing no danger, he turned around completely, and then shook veraciously attempting to rid his fur of the dust.

"Burntax?! Burntax?! Are you here? Are you alive?" a voice from a concerned worker called out.

Burntax looked up from his undignified position as he tried to smooth his fur quickly. "Yes, I am fine, and seeing as it is so, you should be addressing me as Head Scientist."

The lowly lab polecat stared at his paws apologetically. "Very sorry Head Scientist, we were just very worried for your safety."

"Don't worry about it," Burntax comforted, "Really, the name is all show, I am just an exalted one of you, but if the Ddauchloren's guards find you calling be by my first name, they may find fault in you because of it. Very illogical, but to them, respect is number one, and life is second."

"Understood, Head Scientist." the polecat replied with a gleam in his eye.

"Besides," added Burntax, "It is hard work finding good hardworking sciencebeasts, like yourself. I'd hate to lose a good worker."

"Thank you."

Burntax gathered his slate and blasting helmet, and they went off to survey the damage done to the site. It was obvious that there would be no more work done on this rock face, over half the face was destroyed, a massive V cut out of the rock. The concussion from the blast had cracked the rock, essentially making the rock face a large pile of rubble. A couple workbeasts climbed up onto the rock pile to survey the blast, and how far it had thrown some of the boulders. With paws shielding their eyes they scanned the vicinity, their eyes growing larger as they continued to notice bigger boulders even further away than before. "What does the damage look like from up there scouts?" Burntax called out.

"It is amazing Head Scientist, there are boulders nearly one hundred paces away in the ocean. We are standing on a pile of rubble basically, considering that all the rock is cracked and unstable. I think that we have found the formula."

"You THINK!?" Burntax exclaimed, "I KNOW!"

Quickly he marked down on his slate the proportions which had just caused the devastation. Dancing around in a little circle, he dropped his blasting helmet and kicked it a few times for good measure. "Aha! Take that you old helmet! I'll never need you again!"

Then with a gleam in his eye he hop-skipped over to the mixing station, which had just missed being hit by a large boulder and began to measure out proportions for a miniature bomb. Gleefully humming to himself, he poured the mixture into a small leather sack, stuck a fuse in the end, and tied it up tightly. "Science beasts!" he called out, "Today we have found what we have been searching for for so long. WE HAVE BLACK POWDER!" he pumped his fist in the air, holding the leather sack. "You are all now free to return to what ever sort of employment you held before, or you can follow me and join the mighty army of the Ddauchloren!"

There was a large hurrah from the beasts, knowing that they would finally be paid and released from service. Burntax knew that no beast would actually want to join the Ddauchloren's forces; they had only worked as science beasts for the pay. Walking away from the worksite, clutching his slate, chalk, and bomb, Burntax took a deep breath, smelling the dust in the air. Never had such a mess smelled so good to him.

After walking for about an hour, the crew arrived at the camp. Large tents, built to whisker-widths in accuracy billowed in the wind. Their fine colors flashing in the morning sun. The crew was stopped at a sentry post by a guard, but was quickly let through as he recognized Burntax.

"Why are you back so early?" the guard questioned.

"Nothing really," Burntax teased, "we just found the formula this morning and figured that the Ddauchloren would like to know."

The guard stared at him with disbelief, and then let him through, not wanting to hinder such an important discovery.

Marching proudly through the camp, Burntax smiled a relaxed smile, encouraged by the findings of the morning, and excited that he would finally be able to go home and leave this dreaded place.

He headed towards the far end of the camp where a massive tent stood. Due to the polecats' intensity with perfection and scientific procedures, this tent had two floors, making meetings in the lower floor possible while the upper floor was reserved for the Ddauchloren himself.

Once again Burntax was stopped by guards, questioning him, and once again he showed the bomb to the guards and was let in without hindrance. Once inside the massive red tent, Burntax bowed low to the form in the large carved oak throne. The Ddauchloren rose from his throne, his two tails swishing in the morning air, and he greeted Burntax with a solemn, "Good morning."

"Good morning to you, all powerful Ddauchloren. May your reign never end." Burntax intoned, not meaning a word of it.

"Rise Burntax," Burntax stood up. "Why have you come to me now? If there are more complications with the project I will be forced to find a new director."

"Please Your Majesty, there will be no need for that." Burntax smiled, "In fact, in my paw right here, I hold a completed bomb, containing black powder. And here," he held up the slate. "I have the recipe."

"Finally," Ddauchloren sighed with relief. "I was beginning to tire or your incessant meddling. Now please, demonstrate."

"Please O Radiant One; testing here would be a grave mistake. We must at least go out side to a hill."

"Fine," Ddauchloren agreed, "Best not to destroy my entire army before attack anyway." then randomly off on a tangent he asked his general, "Where is Jaggar? That blasted cat is becoming a thorn in my side, how long could it take to control a small group of woodlanders?"

"Please Your Majesty," Burntax asked, "Will you please come outside so the demonstration can begin?"

"I guess that would be helpful wouldn't it?" Ddauchloren remarked satirically, smirking at his sense of humor.

Burntax ignored the Royal Beast's show of comedy and began to trot ahead at a good pace towards a small rise in the land about 300 pawsteps away. As he arrived at the small hill, he began to dig, making a narrow hole horizontally into the side of the hill. He reached into his utility belt and withdrew some more fuse, tied it onto the initial fuse, then lightly tossed the leather wrapped black powder into the hole.

Running back, unraveling the fuse in his hands, Burntax hid behind a fair sized tree. He looked back towards Ddauchloren and received an "ok, go" look, and lit the fuse.

Once again, the sparkling fuse charged towards the black powder, launching bits of molten string off into the grass. Soon, the fuse disappeared into the ground; Burntax covered his ears with his paws, took a deep breath, and waited. KABOOM! A huge explosion rocked the clearing, dirt was flung everywhere. Chunks of sod rained down like dirty snowflakes, smashing into the ground at maximum velocity, leaving indents in the soil.

Burntax removed his paws from his ears and survey the scene. The hill had been obliterated, now only a shallow crater remained. Sod was scattered all around the small field, or at least, what was left of it. Burntax looked approvingly over at Ddauchloren, who just gave an evil smile in return.

Standing up from his kneeling position, Burntax trotted over to where the royal party was waiting. "So, whaddaya think?" he asked, so proud of his accomplishment that he forgot formalities.

"What do I think?" Ddauchloren asked incredulously, "I think that this is the most amazing discovery since iron ore forging! You are a genius!"

Burntax beamed with pride, "One quick thing though sciencebeast," the Ddauchloren continued, "Is this recipe written down completely on your slate?"

"Yes."

"And does it require any special steps to mix the powder?"

"No."

"Ok, thank you science beast," then motioning to the guards, "Kill him, he is no longer of use to us."

"Wha-graaagh?!" Burntax began to yell before a spear jabbed him in the side, cutting deep into his vital organs, mortally wounding him.

"Leave him," said Ddauchloren, "no point wasting energy over an already dead beast."

Burntax lay in the shadow of a tree, gasping for air. His blood flowed freely from his wound; he felt his life force draining. Barely breathing, he began to close his eyes and accept death when his assistant came running up to him and knelt down beside him.

"Head Scientist! What did they do to you?"

"They betrayed _cough_ me."

"Will you live, Head Scientist?"

"No, I fear not, Frendo, and stop calling me Head Scientist, my name is Burntax."

"Hea-Burntax, what should I do?"

"There is nothing you can do," Burntax replied. Then a gleam came to his nearly glazed over eyes, "No wait, there is something."

"What?" asked Frendo.

"You are the only beast which knew the recipe, right?"

"I believe so; all the others were just there to survey the damage for you."

"Good," Burntax wheezed, "Then I need you to go and destroy my slate. Erase the recipe, and then break it into hundreds of tiny pieces. Then run for your life until you come to the place called Mossflower, and the building of Redwall. There are woodland beasts there that may be able to help you. Now please," he began to shudder, his life nearly gone. "Go now!"

"I shall do your bidding Burntax. Now rest in piece, forever." Frendo cradled Burntax's head as he took his last breath. Closing Burntax's dead, forever staring eyes, Frendo lay Burntax's head down on the soft green grass.

Frendo knew that he needed to go through with his promise, or else the Ddauchloren would do more than just the planned excavation on Salamandastron with it. Normally not a beast based on morals, Frendo now felt a strong obligation to protect anybeast who may be affected negatively by this discovery.

He walked back to camp dry eyed; his few tears spent, and began to make plans for the evening. The cloth material which the tents were made out of would allow him easy access to the inside of the tents; he would just need to get past the guards somehow. He soon figured out that a plan would be useless and for plot reasons decided to wing it. (What great reasoning, eh?)

The evening fell quickly, almost with an audible noise as the darkness plummeted from above and smashed into the light, driving it back until the sun rose again the next day. Frendo snuck out his tent under the cover of darkness, hoping to gain even the slightest advantage. He crept along the edge of the camp, behind the outwards facing posts, but out of visible range of the Ddauchloren's tent guards. He stole silently along the edge of the clearing to where the Ddauchloren's tent was.

The Ddauchloren had only made one mistake in the placing of his tent. The clearing was just barely big enough, meaning that a beast could sneak up in the surrounding forest until they were nearly face to face with the tent. Frendo utilized this cover to the fullest, only coming near the edge of the forest when he was near the far side of the tent from the main opening.

Drawing his knife, Frendo crawled in the shadows up to the tent and started to make a small incision at the base of the fabric. His knife met steel. _How could I have forgotten?_ Frendo asked himself incredulously, wondering how he could have forgotten the chain mail layer within the two layers of bright red canvas. Seeing only one other option, Frendo went over to one of the canvas anchor pegs, and began to pull on it, trying to remove it from the soil. After numerous efforts, the peg finally gave, scraping out of the ground quickly. Frendo braced himself, flinching as the tent gave slightly, and then secured itself without incident.

Lifting up the fabric slowly, Frendo poked his snout under the edge and surveyed the scene from a bug's point of view. In front and to the left of him was a guard covering the stairwell up to the second floor. The second guard stood at the entrance to the tent. Frendo crawled silently underneath the rim of fabric, only the chain mail rustling slightly.

He drew his knife once again and holding it with the blade facing him, he snuck up behind the guard and quickly brought the knife across the guard's throat, creating a crimson scarf which grew with every passing second. The guard merely grunted and fell over, with a slight whump._ Kill one to save one thousand_, Frendo thought to himself, shuddering at the horrendous act he had just committed.

With the guard out of the way Frendo proceeded to search the room for any evidence of the slate. Nothing of importance was even in the lower floor with the exception of the throne. Breathing deeply, Frendo nervously headed towards the stairs leading to the upper floor. The well oiled wood did not squeak at all, a feature which Frendo thanked the architect for.

With his knife between his teeth, Frendo crept up the stairs, until his brow was just above the last stair. For this point of view his surveyed the room. A great four-post bed with a relatively thick gossamer curtain sat on one side of the room. On the far side of the room stood a rack holding the Ddauchloren's famous blood red armor, and a small book shelf, crammed full of scientific knowledge.

On the top of the shelf, hastily set down by a tired royal, was Burntax's bag, within it, his slate and his chalk. Frendo crawled up the remaining steps, slinking across the floor to the shelf, and then standing up beside it, in a shadow it formed from the bed lamp within the curtains of the giant bed. Standing on his tip paws on his hind legs, he reached across the shelf to the far edge where the slate sat. His paws scraped against the coarse cloth, but were unable to get a good grip. Stretching to his maximum length, he caught a claw on the cloth, but missed the rest of the bag, sending the bag plummeting to the floor. A resounding crack emanated from the bag as the thin slate broke on contact with the ground.

Immediately, a shadowy figure sat upright in the bed, and called out without hesitation, "Guard! I have an intruder!"

There was no motion from the lower floor, but outside the tent the second guard heard the call and began to run into the tent. His mind working furiously, Frendo knew that his escape was cut off by the coming guard and that he needed a new way out. A quick idea splashed into his mind, _what sort of self preserving beast only gives themselves one exit?_

Acting upon his revelation immediately, Frendo began to pat the canvas around him, searching for an area without chain mail._ Close to the bed!_ He ran over beside the bed, motioning with his dagger in a threatening motion in an attempt to intimidate the figure behind the curtain, while he began to test the new area of canvas.

Tinkle, tinkle, tinkle, flop, tinkle, flop! Frendo did a quick double take, and then plunged his knife hand, blade first into the fabric, cutting through the woven fibers with ease. He made a second vertical slash then a horizontal cut, opening a door. He stuck his head out the hole just before he realized that the slate was still by the book shelf.

Frendo pulled his head into the tent and ran for the slate just as the guards head popped up in the stairwell. The guard caught his eye momentarily, then drew his sword and charged up the remaining stairs towards Frendo.

Frendo slid on the fur covered floor, grabbing the bag then running full tilt towards his hole he had cut. He was nearly at the hole when two tails whipped out of the darkness and tripped him. Frendo fell tail over paws and rolled through the artificial door, carrying the bag with him. As he fell, Frendo braced for impact, but remained airborne for much longer than he anticipated. The fall proved to be fatal, breaking his neck with a quick snap. His arms were broken on impact as well, his bones piercing his skin and causing him to bleed profusely all over the bag.

As if it were a dying act of vengeance, Frendo's blood seeped into the bag and stained every last shard of the recipe slate a deep crimson. He had fulfilled his promise, although he never made it to Redwall, Frendo died with a smile on his face and a light heart knowing that he had possibly saved thousands of lives.


	11. Chapter 10

Wow, it has been seven chapters since the Salamandastron crew got any acknowledgment, or whatever they want. So, I figure that since I have exams (barf) next week, that I may as well get some writing done now, because I'm not gonna write for another two weeks probably.

Hmm, but I wouldn't be surprised if I go back on that. I'm too ADD to study for that long anyway...

So here it is chapter 10/11, dang. I'm so stupid. Why...

Oh, and these guys are Matte, Rennek, Tayla, and Baen, along with Alanbrow so far right? I'm just too lazy to go find the file.

Winter began to slide away from the eastern coast, each day slowly growing longer, the sun warming Salamandastron more and more each day. Now that the temperature began to rise, the hares began to exercise more regularly, and drills began within days of adequate temperature range.

Veteran teachers began sending the rookies out on long training runs, forcing them countless dunes, and into numerous sandy ravines. Unused to such an arduous life, many young hares complained, but all their laments fell upon deaf ears, and they knew it. Soon, the true fighting beasts began to show themselves from the rest, Tayla and Baen were no exceptions, fighting with prowess and confidence lacking in seasoned veterans. They didn't have the finesse and skill, but their natural abilities were unparalleled within the entire squadron.

Coming from another long training run well ahead of the group, Tayla and Baen began to re-discuss what had happened only half a season ago with the forced decision about the polecats. "I still don't like it." Tayla said

"Neither do I," agreed Baen, "but what can we do about it? We are only first years, we aren't favored yet, we have no fighting experience other than training so far, and we have no leader." Baen looked away towards the approaching pack of hares.

"No," Tayla countered, "We have Rennek, he can help us."

"We need to talk to him then," Baen ordered more than suggested.

"Of course." Tayla agreed.

"You two!" yelled out Matte from his position, "come here!"

Begrudgingly, the two hares jogged lightly over to Matte, knowing that even the slightest hint of laziness would be punished. "Yes?" Baen spoke for the two of them.

"You are getting lazy, you stand around too much during the runs-"

"We do the same amount of work as the others, we just go faster!" Tayla defended herself and Baen quickly.

"You do not need to interrupt me young lass, now listen. Do as I say or double will be in order for you. When the group returns, we will finish drills, then do one more run. Everyone will do one lap, except you two, you will do two laps, and if you do not catch the slowest hare, you will be forced to run another four laps."

Baen and Tayla lurched forward in an effort to protest, but were held back by Matte's glare.

The large group soon returned from the run and Matte lead them through the rest of the pike drills, including the formation of a phalanx and circular defending. Once again, Tayla and Baen understood and stood out from the group with their excellent comprehension and action upon the orders.

But soon enough, the dreaded final lap came around. All the hares turned and began an easy lope over the sand dunes, wanting to finish the day on an easy note. Except Tayla and Baen. They quickly sprinted out ahead of the pack and began a vigorous pace, quickly pulling away from the pack. They were nearly done their first lap when the pack had passed the halfway point. Knowing that they had less than half a lap to run a full lap and pass the last hare in the pack, they began to run even faster.

They flew over the dunes, spending more time in the air on the way down than on the ground on the way up. Both Baen and Tayla were beginning to breathe heavily now, the effects of such a strenuous workout straining them to the maximum and beyond. Rounding the halfway point, they roughly estimated that the pack had a quarter lap to go. Once again, they sped up, moving faster than they had ever run before, the sand was a literal blur beneath their thundering feet. Coming over a rise, they surveyed the rest of the course, noticing how close they were to the pack. Then they noticed the despicable Matte urging the pack to pick up the pace and run faster.

Not wanting to run more, Baen and Tayla tried to run even faster, moving at unprecedented speeds, covering the flattening dunes in mere seconds. Within fifty pawsteps of the finish line, they burst past the last hare in the pack, and with great whoops of joy they began to slow down to cross the line at a comfortable, but still fast pace.

Baen began to raise his paws above his head in celebration when Tayla suddenly dropped to the ground beside him, tumbling along the uneven sand. He looked back to see her foot bleeding profusely. Stopping to help her, Baen was passed up by the now third last hare in the pack. He jogged back to Tayla, panting heavily and gasped out, "Tayla! What happened?"

Tayla turned and faced him, tears streaming down her normally calm and serene face. She clutched her hind paw, blood seeping in between her paws and onto the sand. "I cut my foot on something, and it is cut real bad." She said, motioning to the white bone which could be seen through the severed muscle and blood vessels.

"Here, wrap it," Baen ordered, taking off his shirt and twisting it into a makeshift bandage. Tayla remorsefully took the shirt, not wanting to dirty some other beast's clothing. Baen urged her to wrap her foot, motioning with his paws to tie it tightly. He placed an arm around her shoulders, gave her a quick hug of genuine comfort, then went off in search of what Tayla had stepped on.

Seconds later he returned with a pike head. "I found this buried in the sand, blade up." He said almost guiltily, worried at the implications.

"How did it get there? Did it fall off during practice?" Tayla asked inquisitively.

"No it couldn't have," Baen replied, "We practiced much closer to the dunes." He headed off and examined the area around the place where he had found the pike head. "Tayla," he started, "Look at this," he motioned at the pawtracks. "All the footpaw tracks lead around the place where this was buried, and look here," he pointed to two indents in the sand, "somebeast directed them around it."

Tayla looked up from her crimson bandage, blood beginning to rush to her face. "Matte! He must have buried the pike head, then when it looked like he was making them run faster, he was just directing them around the pike head." She fumed to herself, cursing under her breath.

"But why?" Baen asked

"He doesn't like us, duh!" Tayla replied, knocking her fist to the side of her head in a "are you completely dense?" motion.

"Well that is obvious, but WHY doesn't he like us?" Baen corrected his earlier statement.

"I dunno, but it doesn't look like we have time to discuss it. Look who's coming..." Tayla mentioned with disgust.

"Speak of the devil, and the devil he shall appear," Baen quoted dryly as Matte sauntered over innocently.

"Well, my good beasts," Matte began with an unusually happy twinge to his voice, "It seems that somebeasts lost their bet."

"It wasn't a bet!" Baen retorted, "You told us we ha-"

"Yes, I know," Matte interrupted, "but really, who else has to know? Or in this case, who will Alanbrow believe when two leverets like you come forward complaining that a sergeant like me made you run too much? Salamandastron has no compassion for your suffering." He scorned with distaste, "Now get up and run."

"She can't run!" Baen mentioned angrily, "Somebeast accidentally left a pike head in our path, and Tayla cut her foot." His voice dripping with sarcasm as he looked at Matte, who returned his look with a look of sheer innocence.

"That is unfortunate," Matte said unconcernedly, "I guess that means that you will have to do your laps, and her laps, alone."

Baen began to protest, but quickly bit his lip and began to jog quickly around the course. Matte offered to help Tayla up and get her inside, but she quickly refused, saying that she'd rather wait outside until Baen was finished before going inside.

"Suit yourself," Matte said, shrugging his shoulders and heading off towards Salamandastron.

Baen was extremely tired already from the intense day's work, with an additional strain from the extra energy put into the double laps, and now these extra four laps for him and four for Tayla just about killed him. Slogging through the sand on his fifth lap, barely having the strength to top the next dune, he came and finished five and began the sixth lap. Tayla spoke words of encouragement as he passed, trying to will him forward until he finished his laps.

Finally, the eight lap came around, and Baen summoned up all of his remaining energy to bring it home, and end with some pride. He slowly picked up his pace, feeling the strain on his sore and tired legs, but continued to run faster. He rounded the halfway point and continued to accelerate. A bitter taste came to his mouth and he felt like he was going to vomit, but he kept running faster.

Tayla looked on in admiration at the stamina and prowess shown by her comrade, as he rounded the final bend in the course at a dead sprint. She could see tears streaming down his face from the exertion, and his chest was heaving in deep gulps of air. She called out to him, congratulating him, "Way to go Baen! Way to finish strong!"

He passed her and continued on to the finish line, collapsing in a heap as he crossed the landmark. Baen wretched up his lunch on the sand, feeling worse than he had ever in his life. Rolling over onto his back, and covering his vomit with sand, he saw Tayla hobbling over to him.

"Baen! That was amazing!" Tayla called out in a congratulatory tone, then as she approached him her tone softened, "Thank you Baen, you shouldn't have had to do all those extra laps, especially on my part." She stooped down onto her knees, cradling his head in her paws. "Thank you so much."

"It was the least I could do for you Tayla," Baen replied, a proud mirthful smile crossing his face.

"Thank you." Tayla said a third time, softer than before. Slowly she lowered her face and kissed Baen on the cheek, "Thank you so much."

Baen didn't hear any of this though, he didn't feel the kiss, because he was already far off into a land of dreams and relaxation, sleeping deeper than he ever had before.

Tayla lay his head down softly on the ground, and then lay down beside him, not wanting to go back to Salamandastron, at least for the night.

The young couple slept deeply on the sandy ground, dreaming of sunny days of relaxation, swimming in the ocean, and of course, food.

Hmm, not a very long chapter, but it sure introduces a whole new aspect to the Salamandastron hares rivalry, I hope. Ugh, I am so tired, I really shouldn't write about sleeping right before I go to bed, or else I'll never make it to my bed.

Not that anyone cares...


	12. Chapter 11

The sun rose over the horizon, firing shafts of light into the sky staining it pink. The meager light grew in power, soon drawing a great ball of fire after it into the morning sky. Seagulls squawked and kee-yaw-ed in the morning air. On the side of the dune, Tayla was awoken by the harsh and unmusical cries of the scavengers. She opened her eyes slowly, visually drinking in the light blue sky which seemed to extend for ever in every direction. She began to sit up before she realized that she had been sleeping with her head on Baen's chest, cuddling the entire night. Slightly embarrassed at the thought that she had done something like that without knowing it, Tayla lay down in the sand next to Baen, squirmed a bit to make it look like she had slept there the entire night, then gently began to shake Baen's lean muscular shoulders in an effort to wake him.

"Baen..." Tayla spoke softly wanting to draw him out of his sleep slowly,

"Baen, wake up..."

The young hare opened his eyes slowly, yawning and stretching his arms. "Mmm, Tayla? Do we hafta get up now?" Baen moaned tiredly, and rightly so.

"Yeah Baen, we're gonna miss breakfast if we don't."

"Oh dang!" Baen jumped upright and grabbed Tayla by the arm, dragging her towards Salamandastron.

Tayla laughed the entire way to the great stone fortress, musing at Baen's simple pleasures in life.

At breakfast, which was a large platter of pancakes with numerous different toppings to choose from, Rennek, Tayla, and Baen had a one-on-one-on-one meeting, discussing what had happened the previous day. Tayla spoke harshly of Matte's cruelty forcing Baen to run an extra eight laps after a double-time lap, while Baen talked angrily about the incident with the pike head. Rennek listened thoughtfully, suggesting possible reasons, though he didn't sincerely mean any of them. Finally the three began to discuss the actions which they were going to have to take.

"I say," started Tayla, "we inform the Badger Lord about Matte."

"I don't know, Tayla," countered Baen, "Lord Alanbrow is very much on Matte's side, and I don't think he would even believe us in the first place."

Rennek thought for a moment before speaking, "It seems that there is no logical reason for Matte to have planted the pike head, and made you two run laps, especially you," he said nodding towards Baen, "other than that he really dislikes you and is trying to get you out of the Long Patrol or Salamandastron."

Tayla and Baen were initially shocked by Rennek's statement, but quickly saw the logic in it. "So what do we do?" asked Baen, "All the best fighters are on Matte's side, including the Badger Lord, and we only have limited abilities."

"Well," answered Rennek, "we are going to need another challenge. But I can't, because I am too old, and I have challenged already this season. One of you will need to do it."

"I will." Baen and Tayla spoke simultaneously.

Baen looked at Tayla, and Tayla looked at Baen.

"You can't!" said Baen, "Your foot is cut!"

"No, YOU can't," Tayla replied, "you can hardly keep your eyes open you are so tired!"

"Hunh?" Baen said as he woke up from a split second nap.

"Exactly!" Tayla exclaimed, loud enough to draw some stares.

"I guess we have made our decision." Rennek said, with a slight giggle as he watched Baen teeter forward into his plate of syrupy pancakes, falling asleep before his fur met the sticky-sweet-substance.

"We best clean him off and get him to bed," Rennek said, grinning at Tayla.

She smiled and they both carried Baen up to his room, cleaned off his face, and lay him in bed.

After delivering Baen to his room Tayla went by the infirmary to get her foot bound properly. Speaking quickly, but reverently to the ancient hare nurse, she asked for the best binding possible, so that she could run on it by noon. The old hare sniffed indignantly, "Noon? Bah, you'll be running within seconds of this bandaging."

Tayla laughed, then sat patiently as the nurse placed poultice against Tayla's cut, and then wrapped it tightly, but left room for flexibility, with gauze. She then took out a thick white canvas, and wrapped it snugly around the bandaged area, protecting it from wear and tear. Fixing it in place carefully, the hare nurse gave it one last quality check, and then told Tayla that she could get out of the chair and test it. Stepping gingerly onto the cut foot, Tayla was immediately amazed by the nurse's workbeastship, she could move her paw just like normal, and felt no pain from the cut. Thankfully she gave the nurse an excited hug then left to find Rennek.

Rennek was standing in his quarters, staring blankly out the window, as if he was trying to draw inspiration from the blue sky. A concerned look was fixated on his face. Tayla rapped lightly on the rock doorframe. Rennek didn't turn, but spoke in a quiet tone, "Tayla, I'm sure, that since I'm the elder here, that I should be assuring you of this, but-" his voice caught, he cleared his throat, "do you really think that this is the best way to do this? Really, in the end, only you, Baen and I are the beasts who get what we want. All Matte has to do is get all the other hares to kick us out of Salamandastron. Alanbrow would trust them more anyways; he would just let them do as they please with us. Besides, we are only three hares." He turned slowly, drawing his eyes away from the sky, and looking at Tayla.

Tayla hesitated, pondering all the possible things that she could do, say, or suggest that would make their plan work better. Rennek stared at her with a sad look in his eye. Not because of the great possibility that he would be exiled from Salamandastron, but that Tayla would. He had grown close to her, and felt like she was his daughter, and he could not bear to see a young talented hare such as Tayla be sent out of Salamandastron before she had even completed training.

Tayla brought her paw up to her mouth as if to nibble of a nail, thinking deeply. She looked Rennek in the eyes and saw his pain. "Rennek, are you alright?"

"I'm fine." assured the elderly hare.

"You don't look fine." countered Tayla, prodding for information. "Please, if we are going to take on Matte and his friends, we are going to need to be tight as a team ourselves. What is it?"

Rennek sighed deeply, and then replied, "Tayla, I am scared for you. You already have been injured, and now you are facing a decision which could end your career at Salamandastron before it even starts." He looked deep into Tayla's eyes, "And I don't want to see that happening to you."

Tayla smiled at the old hare's sincerity and care, and then gave him a big hug, how a daughter would embrace her father. Tears began to form at the corners of Rennek's war hardened eyes, softening the scarred memories, and letting forth a cascade of emotions. Tayla stood close to Rennek, comforting the old hare as painful memories came to mind, dousing all sanity and leaving the old hare a shriveled wreck of what he once had been.

For nearly an hour Rennek cried, releasing every bit of pent up emotion. Tears for his friends who died in battle, tears for dead family, and tears of happiness all mingled on the floor as Rennek sobbed, then laughed, and then sobbed again. Tayla never left his side. She comforted him when he cried, and laughed with him when he began to cackle randomly. Finally, after an entire life's worth of emotions were drained out of Rennek, or he ran out of tears, Tayla couldn't tell, Rennek began to speak again, choking over the simplest words, but slowly getting his voice back.

"Tayla, we need to fi-ahem-find a better way to do this."

"Yes, Renn," Tayla spoke softly, "And I think I have an idea."

Baen woke up from his nap, wondering where he was. He surveyed his surroundings, recognizing his bed in his living area. "I must have fallen asleep at breakfast." he spoke aloud to himself, as he rubbed his still slightly sticky face. He smacked his lips together making a popping noise as he stretched his face, making yawning and other absurd faces in an effort to stretch the syrupy fur back to normal. He continued on for a couple of minutes, but to no avail.

Climbing out of bed, Baen headed to a washbasin in the corner of the room which he shared with three other hares. Scrubbing his face until the skin underneath his fur was red from the abrasion, Baen cleaned his fur. He dried off his face with a thin, nearly useless towel then left the room to go find Tayla and Rennek.

He walked down the hallways, finding Tayla's room empty he continued on towards the seniors' quarters. The communal room was nearly empty, with the exception of two old hares. Bean walked to the last logical place where he would find Rennek and Tayla. He knocked gently on the door to Rennek's room, and the door was answered by Tayla. "Hi," Baen said cheerily, "How are you beasts doing?"

"Hey Baen," Tayla greeted, "Come on in." She motioned with her paw as she drew the door open to let him in. She continued to speak as if Baen hadn't interrupted, "as I was saying Renn, if we could get the rest of the rookies and the seniors with us, then we could make a decent point with a large amount of beasts. Then what will Alanbrow do? He can't just kick four score beasts out of Salamandastron."

Rennek smiled, so did Baen. "So what exactly do we need all those hares for?" asked Baen.

"To support us in our challenge. You do remember, right?"

Baen closed his eyes and thunked himself on the forehead, "Duh, uh, I'm stupid."

"No, you're exhausted." contradicted Rennek, stifling a giggle as he watched Baen's eyelids begin to droop shut.

"Ok, gennelbeasts, we need to go get ourselves a following." Tayla encouraged Baen and Rennek. She looked back from the door, and laughed as she saw Rennek supporting the semi-sleeping figure of Baen. She hurried over and wrapped Baen's opposite arm around her shoulder and helped Rennek carry Baen to bed a second time.

In the rookie quarters, Tayla began to recruit, uh, recruits? "Hey everybeast! Shut up! I need you all to listen!" the milling youth quieted down, wondering what Tayla had to say. "As you all know, Baen had to run eight laps yesterday and my foot was badly cut, why?" She raised her paws above her head, shrugging, "Because Matte doesn't like me and Baen."The group gave her a "so what?" look.

Tayla gave a visible sigh, then continued, "He doesn't like us because we are outspoken in our dislike for the alliance with the polecats!" The crowd began to listen. "Please, Baen, Rennek, and I need your help! I am challenging Matte today to settle the score, but if we don't have support, Baen, Renn, and I get kicked out of Salamandastron. Please! We only require your support!"

Tayla looked out into the crowd with eager eyes, searching for possible candidates. At first the group looked uneasy with the prospect of going up against Matte and the veterans. But it only took one hare to change all that.

"I'm with you!" shouted Dramin from the back of the room.

Immediately, the ice broken, a roar of agreement filled the room, shaking Salamandastron to its core. Tonight there would be justice!

Dinner came slowly, the excitement of the evening's events dragging time to a standstill. Salamandastron was deathly quiet, the mere pattering of pawsteps down the hallway sounding out of place. The recruits sat in their rooms, trying to pass time, laying on their backs, staring at the ceiling. Then, like a rooster crowing daybreak, the dinner bell rang. Never before had hares moved so eagerly for something other than food. Sure dinner was going to be served, but something a whole lot more interesting was going to happen. Tayla versus Matte.

Frieda's jaw dropped as she came out of the kitchen doors, pushing a trolley laden with food. Even before the food was set out, all the recruits were eagerly awaiting in their seats. "Must've smelled dinner a bit quicker this time." she thought aloud, to herself.

Supper began soon enough, food being abundant and good tasting. Finally, to everybeast's great excitement (and relief for others) Tayla stood up and looked at Alanbrow and began to speak. "Lord Alanbrow, I have a preposition for you."

"I'm all ears." mocked the badger lord, motioning to the hares.

Tayla dismissed the crude humor and continued, "Due to the amount of controversy surrounding our alliance with the polecats, and the repercussions of the actions taken by some..." she glared at Matte, "I would like to challenge Matte to a winner-takes-all race. In my opinion, there has been too much pain caused by this feud, and now I am going to take measures to stop it!"

Alanbrow stared at her for a moment, picking his teeth with his blunt claws, trying to dislodge a morsel of food. "Um, what does repercussion mean?" asked a recruit from behind Tayla.

Tayla sighed, knowing that her slight instilment of awe had been shattered. Alanbrow spoke, "Tayla, you are a good young hare, and I would hate to see you leave Salamandastron, but..." he paused staring blankly as if he was fighting for control of his own mind, "as the rules state, you must go through with your challenge." Alanbrow looked at Matte, then Tayla. "The race will consist of three laps of the training track, just before sundown. Be there on time, or forfeit the race and your time in Salamandastron!" And with that, he turned on his heel and marched out of the room, leaving a slightly confused battalion of hares scratching their heads.

Tayla sat down, and enormous weight lifted from her shoulders, and now replaced with an even larger one. She flexed her bandaged paw, double checking the binding. "Don't worry about it Tayla," Baen consoled, "If there are any problems Renn and I'll be there. Even if you lose, we'll come with you." He looked deep into her eyes, doing his best to show her that he was more than confident in her.

"You're scared too." Tayla spoke softly.

Baen sighed, "Yeah."

"It's ok, whatever happens, happens. Whether I win or not."

"No, whether WE win or not." Baen reassuringly said. "We're all in this together."

He reached over and hugged her, feeling the warmth of her body seep into him. She hugged back, taking any bit of comfort he gave to her and storing it deep within her. "Well," said Baen, drawing back from her, "I guess it is time to go."

"Yeah."

"Let's go."

Baen and Tayla walked slowly out of the near empty mess hall, Baen's arm slung around Tayla's shoulders.

Down at the seaside, all the hares in Salamandastron had gathered to watch the first challenge in more than two score seasons. The obvious factions broke off, the veteran squad on one side, and the recruit/senior squad on the other side. Tayla stood nervously in front of the hares that were supporting her. Baen stood at her side, doing his best to stay awake.

Matte swaggered in confidently, barely making the race time. He sauntered up to the starting line and looked back, wagging his scut at Tayla, "Get used to it! 'Cause it is all you're gonna see for the rest of the race!"

Baen jerked forward, but was halted by Tayla. "Let him say all he wants, talking isn't going to make him run any faster."

Alanbrow trundled in, his paws making deep impressions in the sand. "Tayla, Matte? Take your positions, now. I want to go back inside. Let's get this over with."

And without further ado, the Badger Lord yelled at the top of his lungs, "GO!"

Tayla burst off from Baen's side, already three pawsteps behind Matte. She caught up quickly though, seeing that Matte wasn't running at his full pace. Staying behind him, she kept pace.

Matte enjoyed the feeling of running, especially when it came to ridding Salamandastron of an annoying recruit. He casually looked over his shoulder, seeing Tayla's unwavering face mere paw's lengths away. He smirked, and then began to run a bit faster.

They finished the first lap, Tayla running step for step with Matte, neither hare showing any signs of fatigue. At the beginning of the second lap Matte drastically pulled up the pace, now showing a visible effort. Tayla effortlessly matched his speed, pulling in front of Matte for a mere second, just long enough to wag her scut at him. Matte found no humor in this act and burst past Tayla, shoving her aside as he went. Tayla stumbled slightly then regained her balance, putting on a slight burst of speed to catch up with Matte again.

The second lap took just a bit more than half the time the first had. Tayla still showed no signs of fatigue, while Matte began to huff and puff. But once again, at the beginning of the third lap, Matte began to run faster. Tayla felt the strain in her muscles now as she put a fair amount of effort into keeping up with the older, stronger hare. They rounded the halfway point neck and neck. Dunes began to fly at them, piles of unyielding sand. Scrambling up one side and jumping down the other, the two racers began to show obvious signs of fatigue. Tayla panted hard and Matte began to wheeze for air as they rounded the final corner. Now all that lay between them and the finish line was a ridge of sand, barely wide enough for two hares.

Matte came out of the dunes a half step ahead of Tayla and took the middle of the ridge, making passing almost completely impossible. Seeing no other alternative, Tayla put on an extra burst of speed and tried to force her way past Matte. Her shoulder bumped hard into his, throwing them both off balance. Arms swinging in the running motion, Matte brought his elbow back abnormally quickly, jabbing Tayla in the gut, knocking the wind out of her. She staggered a few paces then collapsed on the ground gasping for air.

Matte crossed the finish line easily, a collective groan going up from the recruits and seniors.

Baen ran out to Tayla, stooping down on one knee to examine her for broken bones. "Do you think you broke anything?" He asked.

"Only my reputation and service at Salamandastron" Tayla choked out between half gasp-half sobs.

"Well, whatever the result, I'm here for you." Baen smiled as he picked up Tayla, carrying her like a baby.

Baen walked slowly back to the area where the hares were gathered around Alanbrow and Matte. "Tayla," spoke the Badger Lord, "You have lost your challenge, and because of it, you are hereby banished from Salamandastron for repeatedly questioning the Badger Lord's rulings."

"Banished?!" Baen yelled. "Banished?! You can't do that to her! She is injured!"

"Baen," started Matte in a deceptively calm voice, "Yelling won't be-"

"Shut up Matte, you bastard!" Baen screamed.

"ENOUGH!" hollered Alanbrow. "Baen, if you care so much, then go with her! But Tayla with not set her paws within Salamandastron ever again! Understood?!"

"Then I will go." Baen replied, all emotion drained from his voice. "If I must, then I shall."

"Me too!" Yelled Rennek!

"Aye!" shouted three recruits

"I'm with you!" shouted Dramin

A chorus of I wills and me toos went up from the recruits, naively believing that their show of camaraderie would change the Badger Lord's mind.

"FINE THEN!" yelled Alanbrow. "As of this point in time, ROOKIES AND RECRUITS WILL NO LONGER BE ALLOWED WITHIN SALAMANDASTRON!"

A shout of anger arose from the recruits. They began to protest, pushing and shoving their way toward Alanbrow. The veterans quickly came in and dealt with them, swiftly boxing in their ears, and then left the bruised recruits in a disorganized heap.

The sun slipped behind the horizon. Then the darkness, matching the color of their bruises, swept them away into the night, leaving no hope for day to ever return.

Dang. That was the cheesiest and most lame ending of a chapter I have ever written. Hmm, my writing is becoming too cliché. Dang.


End file.
